


Lost in Our Minds

by charlottea_x



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, But he’s also a mysterious asshole, Delusions, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco looks good in sweats, Eating Disorders, Ellie is a good friend, F/M, Flashbacks, Hermione is a Tolkien fan shock horror, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lucy can fuck right off, Magic Revealed, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Draco Malfoy, Second War with Voldemort, Slow Burn, Tags Contain Spoilers, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottea_x/pseuds/charlottea_x
Summary: Hermione wakes up in a psychiatric unit with no recollection of how or why she is there. She attempts to navigate the dangers and politics of a place that, whilst designed to treat their patients, feels more like a trap to permanently incarcerate and drain the souls of the inmates.Wary of everyone and everything, she keeps having delusions of a world where magic is possible and tries to make sense of a growing list of oddities.On top of that, there is the angry and mysterious boy that she keeps being drawn to; why does he seem so familiar?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 65
Kudos: 43





	1. The Admittance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wakes up in a strange place and is unable to move, what on earth is going on? Information overload for one thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you to the lovely Tracey (aka [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)) who has very kindly agreed to be both alpha and beta for me. All chapters have now been updated for her comments - if you already read the story up to chapter 8, there has been no change to the plot; but it now flows better should you wish to reread it.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoy my story.

She woke up in fragments. Thoughts and senses and sensations swirled around her like a maelstrom.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Something musty with notes of clinical cleanliness; a brand of bleach maybe.

Then there were the noises. Someone was dragging a pen across paper in the room with her. Running footsteps echoed in a corridor. Raised voices further away.

Her eyes were still closed whilst she took an inventory of her other senses. Her body felt wrung out; like she had been in a fight with a primate but had somehow made it out alive. Her eyes felt heavy and refused to open. The clothing she wore felt soft; cotton pyjamas maybe. She appeared to be lying on a hard foam mat, the sort you got in gym lessons at school to practice tumbling, covered in a thin sheet. There was a blanket and a pillow too.

How did she get here? What had happened? And why was her body refusing to move?

“She should be regaining consciousness now,” murmured a low male voice. A shuffling of papers followed.

“Miss Granger, my name is Charity. I am one of the nurses at the Haywood facility for mental healing. You are currently in the Maple ward for females, which is situated on the first floor. There is a male ward on the ground floor. Please do not be distressed, you are safe and will be well looked after here.”

“And I am Dr Heusen, one of the resident psychiatrists. I was one of the doctors involved in evaluating your case. You are currently being held under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act for assessment and treatment of your condition. You will shortly be put in contact with an advocate who will advise you of your rights.”

Hermione struggled to understand what was being said to her and tried valiantly to speak.

“You won’t be able to speak yet dear,” Charity added. “You won’t be able to move for a little bit either. I’m sorry but we had to tranquilize you as part of the admittance procedure. You were very distressed and I’m afraid you were deemed to be both a danger to yourself and to others.”

Her eyelids began to flutter open and she felt as though a weight was being gradually lifted from her limbs. Other movements were still impossible for now.

“I’ll leave her in your hands now Charity,” the doctor murmured. Then he addressed Hermione, “Miss Granger we will be meeting again shortly to assess what medications we will be using in your treatment plan. You will also be seeing Dr Okoye for a physical examination. Welcome to Haywood, I hope your stay will be short and beneficial.”

Hermione was now able to observe the tall, pale and slender man as he left the room. Dark hair and a blazer, but she doubted that she'd recognise him later.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the nurse peering at her with a kindly face. She was short and sturdily built, with dark brown eyes and black afro hair cropped short. She was wearing a long-sleeved white t-shirt and grey jogging bottoms. It looked comfortable and appropriate for a nurse on a night shift.

“I will be leaving soon, Hermione. It’s about 6 in the morning, so the day staff will be arriving momentarily. I will make sure they introduce themselves to you. Breakfast is served between 7:30 and 9:00. You may either eat in the dining room or you can request that meals are brought up to your rooms,” she explained. “At breakfast you must fill in the meal choices form for lunch and dinner.”

“Your room has a lock that can be opened by staff. You have an ensuite and a desk for you to complete your homework from the treatment sessions. Your advocate will be providing you with the treatment plan. There are activities in the morning and afternoon, with tea breaks and meal breaks between each. It is highly recommended that you attend all of these in order to progress quicker with your recovery.”

She turned to move towards the door. “You did not arrive with any clothes apart from the ones that you were wearing, which we have put in the wash and will be delivered to you later this morning. As such, you have been provided with a set from our donations box. We have also left basic sanitary products in the bathroom. You appear to have no money, so you won’t be able to upgrade these right now, but we can replace them when they run out.”

“Don’t worry too much about remembering all this, dear. Your advocate will be providing you with an information pack. For now, I’d suggest you get some more rest. The first day can be a bit overwhelming. If you require anything there is a call button by your bed. Now I must be going. Sleep well.”

With that, Hermione felt oblivion overtake her. Sleep was sounding increasingly more seductive. Just a short rest... Then she'd figure this all out... She was smart... She could do this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please share the love for the wonderful [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis) by checking out her stories. She writes comedy one shots brilliantly - I can guarantee that you will be laughing. Also, if you are into 90s culture, she has started a new 10 chapter story that will tick all your boxes.
> 
> Also check out the new work by [Marquis_De_Brade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquis_De_Brade/pseuds/Marquis_De_Brade), a good friend of mine, for some blackmail with a heavy dose of smut.


	2. Welcome to the Mad House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to face the Madness. AKA Welcome to the House of Fun. AKA who is that mysterious blond hottie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

A sharp knock on the door interrupted her slumber.

"Miss Granger? Time to get up if you would like some breakfast!" a new voice trilled.

She groaned as she covered her face with her arm... wait... she could move! Testing her new discovery, she unwound her muscles into a full body stretch and let out a small moan of contentment. It felt good to be able to move again, despite the dull pain of the bruises that littered her frame.

Tensing her core, she sat up and surveyed her room. It was surprisingly spacious, if a little clinical and devoid of colour or anything even remotely resembling 'cosiness'. She spotted her clothes folded neatly on a chair closer to the door and swung her legs over the bed (if you could call the uncomfortable pallet that) and padded across the room to pick them up.

Turning back towards the other door that she could only assume led to the ensuite, noting the gap at the top and bottom which she imagined were for observation purposes, she was suddenly overcome by the urge to bathe.

The mirror in the bathroom revealed a bedraggled mess. Her bushy hair was somewhat matted, and were there twigs in there? Weird. The pyjamas she wore were clean, though completely non-descript, and she could see scrapes and marks where her skin showed.

Stripping, she tentatively turned on the shower, testing the water before stepping in. It was a wet room, so the spray hit the toilet behind her as well, which she found a little strange, but the temperature was good and so was the pressure.

After a quick scrub, whereupon she tried to get rid of most of the grime with a non-branded shower gel and rushed through a quick hair wash, picking out as many foreign objects as she could, she dried herself off thoroughly with one of the towels provided and stepped into her jeans, shirt and knitted jumper. It had a big H embroidered into it, but she couldn't for the life of her place where she'd received it...

The world lurched for a moment.

_A cacophony of noise and chaos surrounded her. Red haired individuals were laughing. Plates were floating through the air and landing on a sturdy oak dining table. There was a mad rush to reach their food and then the contented sounds of munching._

Suddenly, she was back in her bathroom. What on earth was that? Who were those people? And why, for the love of all things holy, were those plates floating? Maybe this was the reason she was here. Delusions like this couldn't be normal, but the experience felt so real.

Shoving on her watch that she had been pleased to see included in the pile of clothing, she checked the time, _08:30_ , and noted that she had half an hour to eat before the canteen closed. Slipping on some plimsolls that appeared to have received a thorough cleaning, she took a deep breath and pushed out of her room and into the hallway.

She was almost at the end of a corridor that appeared to have about five other rooms like hers, a door marked 'meeting room 2' and some sort of control centre or hub towards the other end. As she made her way, she noted the open doors of her fellow patients; most were empty but in one she saw a woman lying on her side, her pyjama top riding up to expose her stomach - she appeared to be weeping. Embarrassed to have caught such a moment of vulnerability, she hurried forwards to the office, seeing a kitchen area to her right and double doors to her left that opened into some sort of common room...

_Girls and boys of school age in strange robes with matching red and gold ties huddled around two redhead teens that she recognised from her previous vision. They were demonstrating something with a flourish - were those wands? - and were holding out little items that might have been sweets to a nervous looking girl._

_"These will give you an excuse to get out of class for at least two hours," one claimed. "Perfect for when Snape has his knickers in a twist."_

_The girl took the red sweets and peered at them suspiciously before swallowing one whole. Moments later her skin turned green and boils appeared all over her face. The crowd shrieked with both mirth and disgust._

_"Best give her the counter lozenge Fred," the other redhead announced cheerily._

_"Sure, George," Fred replied, handing a blue sweet to the clearly unwell girl. "Here you go Suze; bottoms up!"_

The sound of her name being called brought Hermione crashing back to reality.

"She zoned out again," a concerned young woman directed to an imposing looking man in formal shirt and trousers who sat in front of a computer in the hub. "Hermione, do you feel well enough to go down to breakfast? We can get the food sent up to our kitchen if you're not?"

She shook her head and attempted a smile. "No, I'm fine. I'd rather go downstairs."

"If you're sure dear... I'm Lucy anyway, and I'm your caseworker while you are with us. Think of me like a colleague." the pretty girl smiled at her encouragingly. "I can take you down now if you'd like. I just need to gather up some of the other late risers."

"Yes, that'd be great, thank you."

"Fab. Just follow me then, Hermione. We'll get you down there, _tout suite_." she added the last phrase in French cheerfully, turning into the common room and striding across towards another corridor.

"Ooh, one sec!" she exclaimed. "I almost forgot! We need to get you your meds."

She gestured towards an open hatch and knocked smartly on the wooden counter. "George? I've got Hermione here. Can you whip up her prescription?"

A friendly man with dark features that made his teeth shine incandescently responded, "Sure thing Lucy, I've got you." He found a chart that had three rows of scribbles in the first column; she tried to make out the writing, having correctly guessed that these were her prescribed treatment course, but the doctor's scrawl made it difficult to decipher. Ticking the second column with the day's date at the top, the pharmacist filled a small paper cup with three pills. "Bottoms up Angel." He smiled sincerely, passing her another paper cup filled with water.

Without pausing to inspect the drugs, she grimaced and swallowed them down, hoping that these pills at least wouldn't cause her to break out in green skin with boils...

"Great. Let's get you some food shall we!" Lucy exclaimed far too brightly for that time of the morning. "Claire, Holly, Amy, this is Hermione, she arrived last night. Are you ready to go downstairs?"

The three girls leaning against the wall just beyond the dispensary looked dour and merely shrugged in response. "Great!" Lucy repeated and set off purposefully.

* * *

The doors to the canteen were directly to the left as they made their way to the bottom of the stairs. The décor here was less 'institution basic' and more 'Georgian hotel chic', with vases of flowers, checkerboard marble flooring, and dark mahogany panelling. Opposite the stairs there was a door, with a glass upper half, that had a lock that required a pin and led through to a reception area and, beyond, an impressive set of doors to a carpark framed by smart landscaping.

In front of the barrier to the reception, there were various comfy chairs, and magazines with smiling faces and holiday destinations dotted around; clearly this was some sort of waiting area. Indeed, there were nervous looking adults sitting there, awaiting their appointments.

Hermione didn't have any more time to make observations as Lucy led them into the dining room. This room was slightly sunken down from the level that the waiting room had been on and the flooring here was Oxford Herringbone - something that reminded her of her primary school's main hall. Had her senior school been like that? She struggled to picture anything from that time in her life... strange.

The tables were both circular, sitting two or four, and rectangular with benches sitting eight or ten. There appeared to be another eating room off to the right, but it was sectioned off with a rope. For the most part, it looked like the older women tended to sit together, as did the older men, but on one of the longer tables it looked like both sexes of the younger generation were allowed to mingle.

At one table, a lone boy who looked about her age sat rigidly upright, his pale face was completely devoid of any emotion. His hair was a shock of white blond and he had the air of someone dangerous. Hermione couldn't look away. Why was there something so familiar and wrong about him?

A tug on her arm drew her attention back to her 'colleague'. "Just tell Mario here what you'd like to eat - there's a continental buffet for breakfast, but you can order what you like. We serve most things."

Hermione placed an order for an omelette with cheese and ham. Lucy smiled and pointed out a clipboard where she could record her meal choices for the rest of the day. "Right, that's about all I need to show you here. Your advocate will be coming to collect you at 9, so she can go over your schedule with you. Feel free to sit where you like and Mario or one of the other kitchen staff will bring your food out for you. See you later Hermione!" and with that she left, again with an annoyingly upbeat spring in her step.

Surveying the scene, there were few options available to her in terms of seating, as the three girls that she had come down with (what were their names again?) had already filled up the spots on the longer tables. Her choices were a table for two with an older man, who seemed to be staring at nothing, or the table for four with the lone blond stranger. She opted for the latter. However, the moment she sat down, anger flashed across his face and he abruptly stood and left in a hurry.

Great. Looks like she'd be eating alone then. Welcome to the Mad House indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [Welcome to the Jungle - Guns N' Roses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1tj2zJ2Wvg)  
> Or - [House of Fun - Madness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJ2X9SANsME)  
> 


	3. Snap Out of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that being admitted could be so boring... At least there's a library. Something is definitely off about blondie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

As 9am swung around, the canteen began to empty. The food had been more than passable, which Hermione had found odd for an institution, but was happy to be pleasantly surprised. The wait staff had been attentive and friendly too; good people to have on her side she thought.

Her reverie was broken when an older lady came up to her table and cleared her throat primly. "Miss Granger I presume?" she enquired.

Hermione nodded blankly.

"I'm Jaishree, I've been assigned to your case as an advocate. If you're quite finished here, would you please accompany me." It was more of an order than a request. Hermione complied.

The next hour or so was spent going over her rights, the rules of the hospital and guidelines for _acceptable behaviour_ \- Hermione wondered what the consequences would be for breaking these; it's not like there was anywhere much worse to be sent. This was then followed by a talk covering her schedule for the next few weeks. Her timetable was densely packed, but she was pleased to see that she was being provided with a ring binder, hole punch, a pack of lined A4 paper, pens and highlighters to go with her information packs and forms.

"Today is a Tuesday," Jaishree informed her. "Which is quite lucky for you, as that is the last day of the rotation before the modules start again on Wednesday."

Lucky. Right.

She peered at her timetable; tomorrow she would be attending Group Psychotherapy at 9:30, CBT Behaviour Change at 11:00, Understanding Anger at 1:45, then Body Tone at 3:30. The eternal academic in her was eager to attend the psychotherapy and CBT courses, as she didn't think that she had ever studied psychology. From a purely theoretical standpoint it would be interesting anyhow.

Anger management perhaps wasn't so high up her priority list, but that nurse (Charity wasn't it?) had mentioned that she'd been deemed so much of a danger to others that they'd needed to restrain her on admission, so perhaps that was why it had been added to her list. The other option, Self-Awareness, seemed more appropriate given her ongoing delusions, but who was she to question the experts. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that a certain quick-to-temper blondie might also be in her course. That, at least, would be enlightening.

After she had finished with Jaishree, she was whisked to some sort of medical room, with a padded treatment table against the wall, for her promised physical examination with Dr Okoye.

The good doctor was young but brusque, going through the motions with the practiced ease of someone who'd seen and done it all before. Her height and weight were measured, along with her blood pressure and oxygen levels. Next, he dug out a needle and several vials. "Sharp scratch now," was all the warning she was given before he stuck her and quickly filled them all.

As he took her blood, she slowed her breathing and entered some sort of meditative state.

_Screaming came from the bathroom down the hall. She made her way there, spotting a lanky boy with dark hair and some sort of scar on his forehead fleeing the scene in visible distress. A body lay prone on the waterlogged stone slabs, with bloody slashes across his chest that appeared to be healing rapidly. A wand lay to his side. A figure clad entirely in flowing black robes crouched over him, blocking her view of the victim's face..._

The sting of elastic being flicked against her forearm jolted her back to reality. "Stay awake," the man said disapprovingly.

He wrote notes for a moment, then looked up at her. "You can go now. The canteen will be open for lunch."

Hermione hesitated. "Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"When will I be seeing Dr Heusen again?" she asked quietly.

He studied her for a moment, then went to the computer to check the appointment schedule. "Not until Saturday. 3pm. If you have a guardian, they may attend."

"Oh," she exclaimed. "I thought I'd be seeing him sooner to discuss my medication?"

The doctor shook his head. "No. You are on the most common course of treatment for your condition. Zopiclone. Olanzapine. Fluoxetine. I can give you the leaflets for these if you'd like?"

"That would be kind, thank you." Hermione smiled as she accepted three leaflets with NHS branding across the top. Good old NHS, she mused.

* * *

After a lunch (jacket potato with tuna and sweetcorn) sat at the longer table with some of the older ladies, who either asked her bland questions or ignored her completely, she looked up to find Lucy with a clipboard peering over the group.

"Observations," one of the ladies, Sandra, muttered.

As Hermione had already finished eating, she stood up and made her way over to her caseworker reluctantly. "Hi Lucy, do you know if I have any more appointments today?"

Lucy smiled brilliantly, damn she was annoying... "No, you're all set for today Hermy... can I call you that? Great!" she finished without allowing Hermione to express an opinion. "You're free to wander around if you like - Jaishree gave you a map, right?"

Jaishree had indeed given her a map, which she had already studied and memorised. There were definitely a few places that she'd like to check out - the library being her first priority. "Yes she did, thank you. I was wondering if I would be allowed to go outside as well?"

Her colleague deliberated for a moment. "Hmm, well it is a little soon, but if you don't go out of view of the main house then I don't see why not. You seem like a smart girl, I know you won't do anything rash! I'll let Jenny on reception know - you'll need to press the call button for Maple ward to go out into the reception, we'll buzz you through if there's anyone in the hub, but there may be a bit of a wait. Jenny will get you to sign out too, for fire safety reasons of course."

Rash? Not her style at all. Calculated, perhaps, but not rash.

Hermione released a sigh of relief as Lucy turned to go. This afternoon might not be quite so terrible if she could find a good book and get some fresh air.

She made her way down the marble corridor towards the male wing; the library was the first door on the left. There were floor to ceiling windows on the wall directly opposite her and on the right; these were both lined with two worn couches and some beanbags too. The entirety of the left wall was filled with books (yes!), DVDs and a flat screen TV.

The choice of books was somewhat uninspiring - mainly trashy fiction, some biographies of lesser known celebrities and some books on psychology. Given the wave of exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm her at any given moment, she opted for one of her favourites that she was pleased to spot. Thank God for JRR Tolkien.

Having selected her book, she was about to make her way to the reception, when she decided to grab a mug of tea as well. It was January, so it would probably be chilly outside, and Hermione did not have a coat. 

She buzzed her way through to the reception, waiting only a minute or so to confirm her name over the intercom. Jenny was a classic English lady; her hair was perfectly coiffed, and she had pearls around her neck. She smiled pleasantly as Hermione introduced herself and pointed her towards the sign out sheet. "Don't be out too long dear. It gets dark quite early in winter."

Hermione was of course aware of this, but she returned the smile politely and assured the receptionist that she would indeed be back before she lost the light. With that, she turned and walked through the doorway; freedom!

For a moment she stood still and luxuriated in feeling the cool winter sun on her face. Then she surveyed her surroundings.

The car park she had seen already, but beyond that a driveway continued, with woods on the left side and a large paddock on the right. There appeared to be a building at the end of the driveway before it turned out towards the road - she knew some of her sessions would be held down there, but for now that wasn't her destination. On her left, the road sneaked round the side of the building and presumably right around to the back. She had seen it through the windows in the canteen; sometimes delivery vehicles had gone that way. Again, the woodlands framed the other side of the road to the house.

To her right there was a large lawn, dotted with a few trees, including a large cedar tree, with a low hanging branch that reached over the wooden fencing and into the paddock - it looked like a perfect reading spot. Further off to her right she could see a small brick hut - the art room if she remembered correctly - and beyond that a sports court with a tennis net and wonky netball goals at either end.

Hermione could tell that it was cold, her breath was making clouds, but somehow, she didn't feel it through her woollen jumper. That was strange; a garment of that thickness had no business being that warm, whatever the natural properties of its material. Just another oddity to add to the ever-growing list.

Making a decision she headed towards the cedar, hoisted herself up and started to read.

* * *

A couple of hours had passed by the time she emerged from her story. Enough for the sun to be dipping low on the horizon and for the shadows to be lengthening.

Ahead of her she spotted two ponies grazing happily, but that was not the only thing that drew her attention.

There was the sound of a rhythmic ball being bounced on tarmac. One. Two. Three. Four. Then momentary silence, the sound of the netball goal shifting, before the bouncing started up again.

Hermione jumped down from the tree and turned to look at the court. Mr Angry himself was there, handling the basketball with no small amount of dexterity. He looked almost bored, but that was not all she noticed.

She hadn't seen his physique before when he had been seated, but now he was stripped to a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, both of which clung to a lithe frame. He was, objectively speaking, very good looking. She licked her lips distractedly, before shaking herself. _Focus, Hermione. Let's find out what his deal is._

Hurrying across a patch of waterlogged grass - whatever magical properties her jumper seemed to possess, her cotton plimsolls certainly did not have those, they were soon sodden - she eased herself through the gate and onto the court.

Initially he ignored her, but she waited patiently before she managed to catch his eye and waved. He sighed dramatically and turned to drop the ball back into a plastic chest. "What?" he asked harshly.

"Erm, I just wanted to say hi and to introduce myself. I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger." She extended her hand. He observed it for a moment, like it might be a specimen in a biology lab, then looked back up at her.

"Why should I care?" His eyes were grey and flinty. He crossed his arms over his chest and started tapping a foot nonchalantly.

"I guess you don't have to. I just thought you might want to get to know someone that you seemed so angered by at breakfast."

He appraised her for a moment. "Why are you here?"

Pausing, Hermione considered the question, why _was_ she there? "I think it's because of the delusions," she offered. "Apparently I had a manic episode when they were bringing me in as well. How about you?"

He chuckled. "Ah, ah, ah. You're forgetting rule 13 - no asking other patients invasive personal questions." He raised an eyebrow, daring her to react somehow. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I apologise. I'm not quite up to scratch with the rules. I only arrived last night."

He appraised her again and smirked. What she wouldn't give to slap that expression right off his face... "Well that solves that mystery then. I'll be going now Granger. Do try not to stalk me further. Though I know you probably just can't help yourself."

With that he turned to go, leaving Hermione momentarily stunned. She shook her head sharply; _snap out of it Hermione_. "Wait! You didn't tell me your name?"

Full on laughing now as he was walking away, he didn't even bother to answer.

Damn. One more mystery for the list. Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [Snap Out of It - Arctic Monkeys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_O_T6Aq85E)


	4. Comfortable in Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therapy starts, some discoveries about her conditions are made and Hermione finds out a bit more about Mr Looks-Good-in-Gym-Gear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

The rest of the day passed in a nondescript fashion. Tea was lasagne and an apple crumble; comfort food at its finest. She'd skipped the gathering of other female patients in the ward's common room - they were watching "She's The Man" and a surprising number of ladies were knitting - and she'd gone straight to the desk in her room to review the notes in her binder before the sessions tomorrow.

Once she felt fully prepared, she luxuriated with a longer wash, finally able to sort out the mess of her hair. She gave it a quick dry and wrangled it into a loose braid that would save time in the morning.

Slipping into the goodwill pyjamas, she had a quick look over the other clothes that she had been provided with; generic long-sleeved t-shirts, some jogging bottoms, various items of underwear, a cardigan. She felt strangely attached to her 'H' jumper, so she doubted that she'd go a day without wearing that, but it was good to see that she had some limited options at least.

Crawling into the bed, she read "The Fellowship of the Ring" until her lids became heavy and she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The routine of the next morning was very similar to the prior day. This time she had risen earlier, so once she'd taken her meds, she was downstairs in time to pick a seat at the table blondie had been at the other day before he got there.

A few minutes later he strode in, all clad in black which framed his pale skin and hair somewhat dramatically. He immediately noticed her and froze for a moment, then grimaced. Once he'd placed his order he reluctantly sat at the same table; it was clear that he didn't like the idea of sitting with any of the others, however much her presence appeared to offend him.

She expected him to say something, but he steadfastly refused to even look at her.

 _Whatever_ , she thought, _maybe if I stay quiet too, he'll begin to feel more comfortable with me and be less of an asshole_. Of course, she might be waiting a long time; but there was nothing else to do here really - she had absolutely no interest in any of the other patients - so she was prepared to go the distance.

* * *

The CBT, or Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, course, her second session of the day, was frustratingly basic as far as Hermione was concerned; they mainly read through the first section of the workbook that she'd already fully completed the night before. When the session leader asked questions, hers was the first and only hand that went up - no surprises there.

CBT was supposed to be an effective treatment for PTSD, and although Hermione wasn't sure if that was one of her problems, somehow, she felt like it might be relevant. She was clearly suffering from some sort of medium-term amnesia, which she thought may have been triggered by trauma. It certainly wasn't the most outlandish theory - and it might also explain the delusions.

She queried her thoughts with the therapist at the end of the session and the woman smiled at her sympathetically before confirming that there was indeed a link between PTSD and psychosis. The therapist, Anya, then went on to explain that positive psychotic symptoms were generally characterized by the presence of unusual feelings, thoughts, or behaviours, and this included experiences such as hallucinations or delusions.

Anya had to rush off to lunch, but she offered to dig out a relevant paper for Hermione to read, which Hermione readily agreed to. Too much research never hurt.

* * *

After lunch, she headed towards the reception and was pleased to see that the door leading out to the reception was open already, speeding up the whole process significantly. Jenny wished her a good afternoon and pointed out the sign out sheet again. Hermione made some idle small talk about the weather (it was grey and raining heavily) before making her way out to the building at the end of the driveway for the Anger Management session. She ran, holding her binder over her hair in a vain attempt to stop the moisture from making her frizz even more unruly. She was, at least, still warm given the unusual properties of her jumper.

When she arrived at the new building, which looked a little like a hunting lodge, she took note of the line of fellow patients waiting to make their way inside, pressed against the brick wall seeking shelter beneath the overhang. Mr Dark-and-Mysterious himself was standing at the front of the line. He hadn't deigned to cower like the rest, so he stood proudly, growing more wet by the moment.

_Packed stands surrounded an oval sports pitch of some sort; students in red and yellow cloaks were zooming above the pitch on broomsticks. She stood in the red section of the stands with her peers, as the rain came down in sheets. She was cheering for a friend when he started to veer up into the sky. She lost sight of him in the clouds, but suddenly she felt a chill that went beyond the inclement weather. The next thing she knew, there was the plummeting body of her friend and cheers turned to screams in anticipation of what would most certainly be a fatal landing. A booming voice carried over the pitch at the last moment... "ARESTO MOMENTUM!"_

Her episode was not noticed by any of those around her, or so she thought until she caught sight of the pale and dripping face of Mr Enigmatic himself staring at her. He had trained his expression to be emotionless again, but she thought she might have detected a hint of concern through the tightening of his eyes.

The lapse in reality meant that she too was now standing directly in the rain and she sighed as she joined the others entering the room; it was going to be a long hour and a half if she was to be damp the whole time.

Luckily for her, there were fan heaters in the room, so she chose a chair in the circle closest to one and felt herself dry off before the session leaders started to talk.

This was the largest group that she'd been a part of out of all the modules so far. Clearly, there were a lot of angry fellow residents - Hermione wasn't sure how that made her feel.

As she didn't think that she had many experiences of anger to add to the mix, she stayed quiet and listened instead. It was all very enlightening, but nothing particularly made her want to get to know any of the others more.

_Stay in your lane Hermione, no need to get swept up in this. You don't want to become too comfortable in chaos - you might not ever leave._

She was disappointed that the aloof stranger was equally silent. But she was able to learn one thing - his last name. The therapist, prompting him for a story, called him 'Mr Malfoy'.

 _Yes_ , she thought, _something to take off the list_.

Malfoy himself was not pleased by this development; he screwed up his face for a moment, then suddenly glanced across to her, catching her gaze. He smiled sarcastically at her for a moment before switching his focus elsewhere.

* * *

She hurried up to the main house to change into jogging bottoms for her next session, Body Tone.

"Did you see something that you liked, Granger?" a low voice close behind her brought her to a grinding halt before she could reach the building. She whipped around, her hair flicking across Malfoy's cheeks. He flinched as more droplets landed on his face, on top of the rain that was still steadily falling.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied tightly, holding the binder over her head again, glumly realising that this action must make her look ridiculous. Still, substance must always triumph over style.

He raised an eyebrow, almost belligerently, at her. "You were staring at me all session. Granted, I can't blame you when faced with _this._ " He gestured down at his smartly dressed body. "But I must say it is not an endearing quality; so, if you were hoping to gain something, I would suggest you desist."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll take that into consideration Malfoy."

Nodding, he paused for a moment, then added an afterthought. "And I think you should maybe try mingling with more people your age. Sitting on your own makes you look like a loner."

"But isn't that exactly what you do?"

"It's safer for everyone if no one interacts with me. I'm dangerous, Granger. If you were sensible, you'd stay away from me."

He took off again, his long strides making it impossible for her to keep up. She was glad for the exercise in the last session of the day; she needed something to take her mind off the budding anger that she was beginning to associate with the frustrating blond.

Maybe the Anger Management module would be useful after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [St Jude - Florence and the Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEMSJf723BI&list=PLWO5xv1QUQDsLz_bQmLzjKPcDk_qNZiml&index=40)


	5. Running From Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione was due a crash. This should come as a surprise to no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack and vision including violence, with non-consensual overtones. Please proceed with caution.
> 
> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

When she thought about it later, she supposed that things had been going _too_ smoothly. Really, she'd been handling herself remarkably well, all things considered.

For heaven's sake, she'd been sectioned. That, right off the bat, would be enough to make most ordinary people have a breakdown. The symptoms of her condition were horrendous: amnesia, mania, delusions. _Was this something that people even recovered from?_

Then there was the fact that she couldn't seem to get a handle on any detail of her life from the age of 11, and even then, she was drawing a blank on important figures in her life - she must have a family right?

Did she have any friends? Anyone outside of this institution who was concerned about her wellbeing? Where were they? Why did no one care? Was she completely alone?

Hermione wasn't an ordinary person. She could feel that instinctively. She was strong and smart and brave. But in terms of the crash that was about to overtake her, she had been running on borrowed time. 

* * *

She was in her room, standing in the shower, when the first wave of panic began to seize her.

It started as a creeping sense of emptiness. There was a ringing in her ears, her chest began to tighten and her stomach felt like it was tying itself in knots. Then, suddenly, all of her limbs felt heavy and she was falling, both metaphorically and literally; there was a sharp pain as her knees hit the concrete, but this barely registered.

She gripped her torso as her breaths grew laboured and pressure built further in her upper body. Water droplets bounced off her face as she rocked back and forth, mixing with tears that were streaming steadily down her cheeks.

Wracking sobs wrenched themselves from deep within her. The whole world was spinning. _Why wouldn't it stop spinning? Couldn't it see that she needed stability right now?_

The magnitude of her situation was overwhelming her. _How could she get out of this?_ It seemed hopeless; there was no beating this...

_"Get - off - her!" another familiar looking ginger boy shouted._

_Whoever he was, he clearly meant a lot to her, because she was shrieking, "No! Leave him alone, leave him alone!"_

_"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list," a horrible and rasping voice leered at her. "Delicious girl... what a treat... I do enjoy the softness of the skin..." She shuddered. This was not good. Not good at all._

_The next of her group to be addressed, a boy with a horrible facial disfigurement, was being questioned about his identity. They turned back to the red-haired boy to continue a similar line of interrogation._

_She offered an alias to the men at some point - it wasn't readily apparent to her why she was lying, but somewhere deep down it felt imperative that their true names should not be discovered._

_Only a short time later, after it appeared that she and her friends might be getting away with something, one of the snarling men was pulling out a newspaper article and they were saying her name. Shit._

_".._.Granger, the Mudblood who is known to be travelling with 'Arry Potter _," she didn't know which of her companions, if any, was this Harry Potter, but she suddenly felt certain that it was the one with the ugly face. She also didn't recognise the term 'Mudblood', but then again, she often didn't understand things that she saw in these visions._

_An almost inhuman face was thrust in hers. "You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you."_

_Internally she was screaming. Oh God no. No no no. "It isn't! It isn't me!"_

Raised voices lifted her partially, but not fully, from the nightmare that was playing out in her head.

"Hermione? Hermione? Can you hear me?"

"Oh my God, she's having a fit! I need assistance here!"

"Can someone grab the doctor?"

Still feeling unconnected to her body, she was vaguely aware that she was thrashing about uncontrollably. She heard haunting and strangled cries ringing off the walls of the bathroom.

The water was switched off and a blanket thrown over her. Pairs of strong arms lifted her. Another attempted to dry her off. More voices were added to the mix.

There was movement. Then stillness. A sharp scratch froze her body, but not her mind. _Why wouldn't it stop?_

_She was being thrown down on gravel in front of an impressive manor house. A cold feminine voice broke the silence. "What is this?"_

_The rasping voice replied. "We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"_

_Well that was a mouthful of a title. Why could this man not be named?_

_There was no time to consider this further as the woman spoke again. "Who are you?"_

_Wonderful question really, Hermione thought. She soon had an answer; the ringleader of her captors was Fenrir Greyback._

_He was trying to convince the woman that her friend was Harry Potter, which seemed to be very important, and that she was the 'Mudblood'._

_The lady seemed unsure, she clearly didn't know them, but she led the group into the house. "My son, Draco, is home for his Christmas holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."_

_They ended up in a large and sumptuously decorated room. A deep voice asked the same initial question as the woman._

_The woman replied. "They say they've got Potter. Draco, come here."_

_Up until this point, the figures in her delusions had all been strangers to her._

_But the person who responded to this request was no stranger._

_Draco was... Draco..._

_Draco was Malfoy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [Wolves Without Teeth - Of Monsters And Men](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAI5GSyXMjA)
> 
> Americanisms:  
> Sectioned = Committed


	6. It's Not The Waking It's The Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She might be going crazy, or she might be onto something. A confrontation with Malfoy is the only way to solve this mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW referenced eating disorder
> 
> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)
> 
> A/N to avoid confusion, this story is set around the modern day (January 2020 to be precise) for personal reasons.

Waking the next morning from a fitful night of sleep, she was pleased to discover that this time she was able to move her limbs. There was a pervading sense of grogginess though, that wouldn't shake, however much she yawned and stretched.

"Ah good, you're awake."

Hermione gasped and sat up straight, regretting the move instantly as the room began to spin. _Ugh_.

The nurse, Charity, was sat in the chair by the door, holding a paperback book with a pastel coloured cover; a Sophie Kinsella novel by the looks of it. A mug was sitting on the floor to her right; she had clearly been there some time.

"You had a rough night Hermione, I was assigned to keep an eye on you," she explained, looking sufficiently concerned. "How are you feeling now? Do you need to see the doctor?"

Considering the question for a moment, Hermione deliberated over her options; yes, she had wanted to see the doctor to discuss her case and to get some answers. Yet, after last night's vision, _or was it a memory_ , an insidious voice in her head suggested, it seemed more imperative than ever for her to confront Malfoy. For starters, if she could ascertain his first name, that would confirm things one way or another, right?

Draco was an uncommon moniker, and she was certain that she had not heard it whilst at the hospital. So, if that was indeed his name, then maybe her delusions were not delusions at all; could they possibly be suppressed memories? It would explain a lot, but would also raise so many more questions. She wasn't sure what her next move would be if that was the case.

Then, there was the other, more probable, outcome; that his name was not Draco at all. It was probably Mark, or something nondescript like that. She had merely placed him in her vision as an antagonist, as that was what he had become during her stay at this facility.

If that was the case, then she was back to square one. Or maybe negative one, because clearly her symptoms were getting worse. She wouldn't be allowed out if she kept having panic attacks and convulsions like that, even on medication. They would conduct tests, she would be subjected to more therapy and even stronger drugs. Maybe they would dull her senses so much that she would become a shell of her former self.

This thought terrified her. No. She needed to brush last night off. Show the staff that she had regained her sanity and that the episode had been a blip, caused by the shock of her situation catching up with her after her adrenaline had worn off. Yes. That sounded logical and perfectly plausible. She could work with that.

Shaking herself from her musings, she replied to the attentive nurse, "I'm sorry about last night, Charity. I think it's just that I had been suppressing my emotions about being here, and it all caught up with me."

Charity nodded as if this explanation seemed reasonable, even expected.

"I was so very tired last night, and the therapy drained me." Charity was still nodding, Hermione knew that this was not an uncommon reaction to therapy; it was often one step backwards before two steps forward. "I'm feeling so much better this morning. Well rested. I just want to continue with my treatment plan, I know that that is the best way to get better. Also, I'll be seeing Doctor Heusen on Saturday anyway. No reason to see him before time if he still thinks I'm on the best course of medication?"

The nurse searched her face for a moment, appearing to reach a conclusion. "Yes, I think that sounds normal. New patients often go through this, so please don't feel like you've had a setback. Notes from your therapists suggest that you are engaging well with the programme."

"You will, of course, continue to be monitored throughout the day. The doctor thought it best to keep your medication as it is - the titration has to be increased slowly to ensure that there are no ill effects - but you will have a nurse assigned to your room during the night in case you have another episode."

This all sounded reasonable, Hermione thought. She was relieved that they wouldn't be adding more sedatives to her regime; that would certainly make it harder for her to concentrate. "Thanks Charity. Can I go to breakfast now?"

Charity smiled, happier now that it seemed like her patient was responding well. "Of course, honey, you've still got plenty of time. I'll leave you now, but just press the call button if you need anything."

* * *

At breakfast, Hermione took the advice that Malfoy had given her after the Anger Management class the other day and took a spot at the table with the other younger patients. Breakfast was not the time for the conversation she wanted to have with him, and she needed time to prepare for that. Indeed, she might need more than a day.

The group around the table seemed more interested in her than the older ladies had been the other day. A few she could even see herself getting on with, if she was going to be in this place for some time.

There was a girl, Ellie, who seemed quite friendly. She appeared to be in her late teens maybe, like Hermione, with a petite body and blonde hair in tight curls. She was dressed stylishly, with her makeup done carefully; her red lipstick, especially, was chic and well applied. Hermione wondered why she was here, noticing that her fellow inmates skirted that topic, but she wondered if her size had something to do with it.

This suspicion was confirmed when she noticed a nurse taking note of the food that she had eaten (not much at all) and encouraging her to try some yoghurt with fruit. The girl ate it, clearly in misery, but cheered up when Hermione asked her about her life before hospital.

Ellie was a dancer, a good one she assured Hermione, but her true passion lay in fashion. "I want to design my own line," she confessed. Hermione thought that this was a great idea, and she told the girl so. After that it felt like there was some sort of camaraderie between the two.

She asked the girl if she was attending the next course that morning, Assertiveness. Ellie grimaced. "I don't like the classes."

"Oh, that's a shame. I was hoping to have someone go down with me," Hermione replied.

Ellie considered this for a moment. "Fine. I'll go. But I won’t talk. And if I don't like it, I'll blame you."

"Fine by me!" she laughed. It was coming up to 9am now and she hadn't seen Malfoy at all. Strange.

* * *

Hermione generally considered herself to be an assertive person, so she didn't really gain much from the first session of the day. But it had been fun to have a friend, someone to chat to on the way down and then in the tea break before the next session, Group Psychotherapy.

She did take the opportunity after that class, however, to quiz Ellie about Mr Disappearing Act. The girl frowned. "He doesn't really talk much. Or, like, ever. I'm not sure if I even know his first name."

 _I hope I do_ , Hermione thought glumly.

"All I know is, he arrived just before you. The day before I think. And I've heard he doesn't really attend any of the classes either. The other girls were upset by that - I think a few of them have crushes."

"Oh, I bet they think they do." Hermione laughed. "So, what does he do?"

"I heard from the boys that he mainly stays in his room, reading. They think he's a real weirdo. But I've seen him on the courts a few times before dinner too."

Ellie turned to her, eyebrows raised. "But why do you want to know?"

"I mean, I guess he's good looking. A girl's gotta eat," she added, Ellie found this phrase hilarious coming out of Hermione's mouth.

"Ha, posho like you, didn't think you'd say things like that."

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly. "I'm not posh!"

"Sure, Miss I-Won't-Mix-With-The-Plebs." Ellie laughed. "Didn't think you'd have the balls to sit with us, you with your perfect grammar and received pronunciation."

They debated this as they made their way back up to the main house for lunch. Playful banter continued during the meal, with Ellie making sure to include her in the group conversations, for which Hermione felt strangely grateful. It was nice to forget her situation and just immerse herself in the chatter of people her own age.

Of course, the group were not without their quirks. One of the larger boys, she was told, was schizophrenic, and she should avoid him if he wore his hood up. Another suffered from Tourette's and would curse at the most inappropriate, but still amusing, times.

One of the girls was upset about some 'bitch' at home that was stealing her boyfriend whilst she was stuck in hospital. She knew this to be true because she'd seen a photo of them together on Instagram, and because her boyfriend wasn't calling her baby in his phone calls anymore. She promised the group that she would be taking a brick to the homewrecker's windows when she got out. Hermione shuddered.

And still, Malfoy was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was taking his meals in his room. Or maybe he'd been released... no, that wouldn't have happened, he'd only just been admitted like her. But he could have been transferred.

For a moment, Hermione began to panic and felt herself slipping, when Ellie waved her hand in front of her face. "Hey girl, stick with us. You don't want the nurse to see you zone out."

"Thanks Ellie. Just thinking of something."

The girl grinned. "Hey, whatever it is, can't be more exciting than this _delicious_ peach melba."

The dessert was delicious, in Hermione's opinion, but the girl had steadfastly avoided anything that wasn't fruit, hiding some of the cake under her spoon. Eating disorders were no joke, but Hermione wished she knew how to say something that would encourage Ellie to eat. She stayed silent; she didn't want to make it worse.

* * *

The rest of Thursday and Friday passed much the same way. Classes (CBT, Mindfulness & Meditation, Relapse Prevention, CBT Behaviour Change, Assertiveness again, Release Stretch and Relax) kept her busy. Ellie and the Gang, as she began to affectionately think of them, kept her sane. Her books transported her to a different, kinder, reality. Nurses and Lucy reminded her of how helpless she really was. Her visions didn't reappear. Malfoy remained MIA.

Just as she was about to query his whereabouts with one of the clerical staff, she spotted him outside her window, back on the court on Saturday morning.

Given that she had no modules to attend that day, and her appointment with Doctor Heusen wasn't until later, she knew that now was the best moment to confront him.

Stalking towards the court, she felt powerful and determined. He wasn't going to slither out of talking to her this time.

"Draco!" she called, testing out the name whilst her heart beat erratically.

He turned around slowly; his eyes wary. Relief flooded through her as she realised that he wasn't going to contradict her. That really was his name. What did this mean? The uncertainty brought with it a wave of fresh emotion she initially struggled to identify.

He was scowling. No surprises there. "So, you decided to ask the staff about me then. Some would call that stalking, Granger."

"I didn't," she whispered. _Shock. It was definitely shock._

His eyes went wide and his usually pale face seemed to turn even more ghostly. "What did you say?"

Suddenly, she realised she wasn't prepared for this - she had been so convinced that he wasn't Draco Malfoy. So she turned and ran from him.

There weren't many places she could go, but she'd seen a bridleway path out into the woods coming off the service road from behind the house, so she headed in that direction. She didn't even know whether she was allowed that way, but she needed to get away.

She felt something rise in her, like she had not really had her eyes open before.

_Magic was real._

_And something had happened to her._

_And she knew that he knew the reason._

_Maybe he was the reason._

_He was dangerous._

_She had to get away_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical Prompt - [Nina Cried Power - Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2YgDua2gpk)


	7. Always Ready For A War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lines between reality and fantasy are blurring. Hermione needs to escape, but will Draco let her go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

She ran blindly through the woods; the sound of her breath, the splash of her shoes and the beat of her heart reverberated in her ears. But that wasn't the only thing she heard.

Behind her, Draco had clearly caught on and was now chasing her, calling her name plaintively. Begging her to stop. To just listen to him.

Luckily the path sloped downhill, and she had the advantage of a head start on him. But even so, she knew from his athletic build and superior height, that it would only be a matter of time until he caught her. She needed to come up with a plan.

Spotting a large tree that would serve her purpose, she slowed, grabbing a hefty looking branch that was lying on the ground, and scrambled up the slope so that her back was against the oak and her weapon raised in front of her defensively.

Draco rounded the corner and skidded to a stop. He looked devastated, which she didn't understand one bit. If he was her enemy, he had no business looking this upset. Maybe she'd just ruined his plan by discovering the truth, whatever that truth was. Yes. That was probably it.

"Don't get any closer," she warned. "Don't you fucking dare."

He put his hands up, regarding her the way one might a cornered animal.

"I'm not going to hurt you Hermione," he offered softly.

"Like fuck you're not. I _saw_ you. You were there in that manor when I was captured. You gave us up to that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named bloke," she snarled. Oh God, was he going to send her back there now?

He frowned. "That's not what happened Hermione."

"But you don't deny that you were there?" she threw back.

"I don't. It was the worst day of my life. But I didn't give you up. I tried to save you. Much good that did..." He sagged, placing his head in his hands. "And it's only going to get worse now."

That made no sense. "Why is it worse now?"

"I could protect you when you were just a crazy Muggle. The wards were going to be enough to keep them out. But now that you know, it isn't safe to keep you here. Not now that you've broken through the perimeter. It's probably only a matter of time before they come."

He looked like he was about to cry.

Hermione was no longer so sure that this boy was her enemy. For starters he wasn't leering at her the way that those men who had captured her had, and there was the fact that he seemed so broken about the fact that he couldn't 'protect' her. 

"Who are they? What's going on? Why do they want me? And what is a Muggle?" she asked, feeling a new sort of panic rising.

"Look, I'll tell you everything. But we need to get you back to the hospital. It's not safe out here, and the staff will raise an alarm with the police if you don't show for your appointment with Doctor Heusen."

 _How did he know about that?_ Probably magic.

Magic was apparently real and her mind was still struggling to accept that.

"Why does it matter if they call the police? Clearly if we're magical, police shouldn't matter, right?" She wasn't convinced going back to the house was the best idea.

But he was already shaking his head. "Normally that'd be the case with Muggles. But ever since you went missing, the people after you have been monitoring the Muggle authorities as well, and they've managed to put members of the police under the Imperius Curse. They will report any sightings of Order members to the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Hermione was hesitating, but the urgency in his voice made her lower the branch to the ground.

" _Please_ Hermione. I need to get you back. I don't have my wand on me, and you don't have access to your magic right now," he begged her.

Something told her that he was right about the danger she was in and he seemed like the lesser of two evils in her current situation.

She decided to trust him.

"Okay. Let's go."

* * *

Luckily, no one had noticed they were missing, but Ellie spotted her with Draco as they made their way back into the building. She immediately grabbed Hermione whilst Malfoy signed them back in, and dragged her away.

Hermione decided to let Ellie lead her upstairs to the Maple ward; she was still not sure how much she could rely on Draco right now. His about-face and revelations had thrown her for a loop.

Ellie pulled her into the girl's room, then rounded on her. "What. Was. That?" she demanded.

Hermione sighed, she wasn't going to get out of this easily. But, she supposed, all things considered, the hint of a scandal involving a boy wasn't the worst thing that could happen in this scenario.

"So, Draco and I were talking..."

"Draco is it? Weird name... Go on. What were you talking about? The weather? Or how much you want to ride him like a stallion?" the girl asked cheekily.

Hermione blushed furiously at the language. "God no. Nothing like that. I just..." what _had_ they talked about that didn't involve magic? "We just talked about why he was here and why I was here."

"Oh?" Ellie frowned. "And why is he here then?"

Hermione paused, trying to think of a non-magical reason, "He got into some trouble with some bad people. I think he's partly here for his own protection."

"That's terrible! The abused ones always have the worst time. No wonder he's been keeping to himself... Maybe we should invite him to sit with us?" she added hopefully.

Shaking her head, Hermione replied. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. He wants to be on his own."

"So sad. Poor boy... Still! Everyone loves a broken mess, eh Hermione?" She giggled as she elbowed Hermione in the side.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ellie, it's lunchtime; let's go get some food."

That made the girl stop smiling. "Ugh. Yeah, if we have to."

* * *

Yet again, Malfoy had disappeared without a trace. So, after lunch, she tried meditating in her room, seeing if she could access any other repressed memories, becoming frustrated when she drew a blank. Of course, when she needed the visions, they were nowhere to be found.

The appointment with Dr Heusen hadn't been particularly illuminating, especially given that Hermione now thought that her issue didn't fall within the realms of non-magical medical practitioners.

She made all the right noises though, giving the explanation that she had offered Charity regarding her episode on Wednesday evening, and the theory she had explored with Anya regarding PTSD, memory loss and delusions.

The doctor laughed when she explained her take on her symptoms. "Sounds like you should be the psychiatrist here, not me."

"Well I don't know anything about the treatment for my condition," she countered.

He'd chuckled at that and written some notes on her file, confirming that he would be upping her titration gradually over the next week to bring her up to the standard dosage.

Once she was dismissed, she sought out Draco, and found him lounging in the library, drawing sideways glances from the other residents. He was reading a book about football, and he looked both engrossed and confused.

Pulling across a beanbag, she sidled up next to him and waited for him to stop reading and acknowledge her. Whilst she was waiting, she settled back to watch the film that was playing. One of the Blade Runners perhaps? She'd seen it once, she thought.

When the rest of the room was engrossed in the movie, Draco leaned over. "Follow me in five minutes. I'll be in the smoking hut."

With that he stood and placed the book back in the shelving, crossing the room quickly to leave.

She waited the requisite amount of time, and then she gingerly rose too, trying not to disturb the other patients. She caught a knowing look from Ellie, who was observing her from across the room. Hermione grimaced and shook her head quickly; Ellie looked disappointed. She'd probably get grilled again later.

* * *

The smoking hut was just off the patio that lay between the house and the lawn, directly in front of the library, but given that the curtains in that room had been drawn, they had some degree of privacy.

As she stepped in, Draco pulled out a wand, scaring her momentarily until he muttered that he was casting a warming charm. The next spell he cast was _'Muffliato'_ which she could guess the purpose of.

Draco placed another wand upon the table; she moved to take it, but he stopped her. "Just wait for a moment. Let me talk first."

"Why can't I touch the wand? Is it mine?" she queried.

He nodded. "It is. But when you touch it, you will get your memories and your magic back, and I think you should hear what I have to say first."

She could allow him that, she thought, so she crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the bench that wrapped around the hexagonal hut. The hut was covered in the graffiti of past residents, most were a mess of curse words and ominous warnings. It seemed fitting for this conversation.

Malfoy did not sit, but began pacing, wringing his hands; the picture of anxiety.

"Look. The first thing you need to know, is that I'm on your side," his voice was low. "You might not believe that when you get your memories back. But everything I have done since that day, that day at the manor, I have done to protect you. To help you."

"You mean so fucking much to me. And I was such a coward before. I didn't accept my feelings. I kept them down and hidden, because they could have destroyed us both. But none of that matters now. There's no going back for me."

This was confusing her, but she could tell he wasn't finished yet, so she schooled her features into a neutral expression before gesturing for him to continue.

He paused for a moment and then looked her straight in the eye. "There is a war going on Hermione. And your side is losing. Once you lost consciousness in that room, I stepped in and apparated you away. I don't know what happened to the rest of them. But I had to do it to protect you."

"What did you do, Malfoy?" This seemed like a vitally important question.

He swallowed and looked away, clearly ashamed. "You were half mad from the torture. I did what I thought was best... I took your magic... But it had some side effects and you wouldn't stop shaking and screaming."

This was bad, this was really bad.

"So, I searched for somewhere I could keep you safe and I found this place."

"What then, Draco?" she muttered softly.

"I... I had you sectioned. I had you sectioned and I'm so sorry."

Hermione took a deep breath. Well this, at least, she had expected. It still put Malfoy more in the 'foe' camp than the 'friend' one, despite his pretty words. But she decided that there were more important things at stake now. Like this war. What on earth was that?

"O-kay..." she said slowly, considering her next question carefully. "So, my friends don't know where I am then?"

He looked truly miserable. "No. They don't. No one does, or at least I hope that that's the case."

"But I was involved in fighting in this war, right? Did I have an important role?"

"Well, you were travelling with Potter and Weasley, so yes, most probably. I'm not really sure what you were doing though. I was at school for most of this year," he explained.

"In that case, it sounds pretty important that I get back to myself as soon as possible then?" she countered.

Draco looked nervously at the wand on the table, towards which her hand was slowly extending. "There's one problem though."

"Go on."

"Well, I don't know whether the memories of the torture will trigger you again. And then I'll just have to take the magic away once more. The Obliviate that I cast didn't seem to do the trick."

"Hmm..." Hermione considered this for a moment. Either way she looked at it, it seemed like her next action was a foregone conclusion. "Well, there's only one way to find out."

And with that, she closed her hand around the wand.

The world exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical Prompt - [Pray For Me - The Weekend, Kendrick Lamar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5xERXE7pxI)


	8. Hide Her Away From The Rest of The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her interaction with Draco isn't quite the reawakening that she was hoping for, but Hermione has a plan to fix that. After the stress of the past week, some girl time is most definitely in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

_She was back in that house, Malfoy Manor. This time around, though, she knew the context and the names of the characters involved in the scene._

_She could tell that she had missed most of the interaction; the part where Draco had claimed not to know them; the part where Bellatrix, Lucius and Greyback had fought for the chance to summon Voldemort; the part where the sword of Gryffindor had been discovered._

_No, she had jumped straight to the worst bit, the part where she was tortured so badly that she went crazy._

_She shifted her attention back to her surroundings, where Narcissa was addressing the werewolf. "Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."_

_"Wait," Bellatrix cried. "All except... except for the Mudblood." Hermione wondered now why she had ever hoped for the visions to come back._

_Ron was trying valiantly to take her place, but it was a vain attempt and Bellatrix slapped him for his troubles. "If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them... yet."_

_She threw the werewolf's wand back to him and took out a short silver knife from her robes. Hermione shivered knowing what was to come next. Then she was being cut free from the others and dragged by her hair into the middle of the room, whilst her friends were forced away._

_For some time after that point all she knew was pain. Bellatrix screamed at her for answers and she screamed back, pleading their innocence in one moment, howling in torment the next._

_She was hit by curse after curse, and at some point, Bellatrix switched to the most torturous of the lot, the Cruciatus curse. She could feel her grip on reality slip then, but through the red haze of agony she saw Draco inch his way towards her._

_It was when Bellatrix brought out the knife again that he acted. He sprinted towards her and grabbed her tight before they both twisted with a crack, away from that ordeal and onto the next..._

The first thing that she noticed as she returned to reality, was the grim set of Draco's face. That and the fact that her wand was now missing again. Her voice box felt raw, like she might have been screaming, and the pain of her now fading bruises had begun to flare up again.

She needed to know what had happened. "Draco... what's going on? Why have you taken my wand again?"

He considered her for a moment, before answering. "How much do you remember, Hermione?"

"I remember you and I saw what happened in the manor. When Bellatrix was hurting me, but you saved me."

Draco scoffed at that. "Some saviour I am... but do go on. What do you remember about before that day?"

This question gave Hermione pause. She certainly remembered more than she had done before. Faces had been given names and she felt like she might understand the threat of their enemy better. But she was still drawing blanks on large swathes of her life, such as the identity of her parents and the time that she had spent at school before she and her friends had gone on the run.

"I remember... I remember some of it. Not all."

He nodded, as if her answer had confirmed his suspicions. "It's a good thing that we don't have to start from scratch again, but this situation is still very dangerous for you. I had to take your magic away again. You were catatonic and I couldn't make you calm down. I was worried that the Muggles might see."

Hermione already knew that the part about her magic was true - she could feel that there was a fundamental piece of her missing - but his revelation still hurt.

Before she could question whether that course of action had been completely necessary, he cut in. "The good news is your episode wasn't nearly as bad as last time. Also, you seem to have recovered much better, if your lack of amnesia regarding the past week is anything to go by."

He paused and frowned as if trying to solve a difficult equation. "I think maybe the Muggle treatment might be working for you."

"I agree," Hermione concurred. "And that would certainly make sense if it _is_ PTSD that is blocking my brain currently. It may be a Muggle condition, but that level of trauma is no joke."

Draco glanced at his wrist then, an expensive looking silver watch slipped out from behind the cuff of his dark dress shirt. "Listen, we have to go back in for dinner now, or we will be missed. But I think if you continue with your treatment here, we might be able to get your magic back without triggering an episode."

Longing swelled in her; if she could get her magic back, then she would be able to re-join her friends and take part in the fight to overthrow the Dark Lord.

"Okay, that sounds like a good plan to me," Hermione offered. "When can we try again?"

He was walking back towards the entrance of the hospital, having released the wards that he had cast around the smoking hut. "I think we should wait until Saturday morning. That way we will have time and won't be disturbed by the staff."

"Fine." They had reached the reception and this time Hermione moved to sign them in. "I guess I'll see you later then Draco."

He didn't bother to respond as he walked away.

* * *

Ellie was conspicuous by her absence at dinner, which worried Hermione. When she made her way up to the common room on the female ward, she saw the girl looking glum on one of the beanbags, half-heartedly watching "Mean Girls".

"Hey girl," Hermione said softly, sinking down onto the beanbag next to her. "Are you alright? I missed you at dinner tonight. I felt sure that you would want to question me about the Malfoy situation..."

Ellie sighed, but smiled slightly at Hermione's attempt at humour. "It's just been a rough day. Lucy has been after me all day. I didn't want to have to eat in front of everyone, so I had my food up here."

Making a snap decision, Hermione stood up and reached out a hand to pull Ellie up. "Come on honey. We need a bit of fun. Do you have any speakers in your room?"

The girl's smile widened at that. "Yeah I do actually."

"That settles it." Hermione grinned, then turned to the other girls in the room, none of whom appeared particularly invested in the film. "Party in Ellie's room. Who's down?"

A few of the younger girls scrambled up to join them, and the little group of broken women made their way to Ellie's room.

* * *

For almost an hour, they were transported into a world of sleepovers and gossip. Taking turns at controlling the playlist, the girls chose artists ranging from Beyoncé to The Killers, The Spice Girls and My Chemical Romance, to name just a few.

Whilst Hermione didn't recognise all the songs, she pretended to grab a mic and loudly sang along to 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun', making the other girls shriek with mirth before some of them gained enough confidence to join in as well.

Over time Ellie began to loosen up a bit as well, and by the time "Delilah" by Florence + The Machine came on, she was performing some sort of interpretative dance routine to it.

Sia's "Elastic Heart" was playing when the door crashed open and they turned to see Lucy glaring at them angrily. She marched up to the speakers, confiscating it from the protesting girls.

"You have forfeited your right to have this device in your room Ellie," she spoke in an authoritative tone. "You know better - you've been here longer than any of the other ladies here - it is against the rules to have other patients in your rooms."

Ellie looked crestfallen and in that moment, Hermione really did want to invoke physical violence against her caseworker. But before she could react, she and the others were being ushered from the room.

The night might not have ended how she would have wished, but she couldn't deny the hope that she felt as she walked back to her room.

Lucy might be a bitch, but even she could not take away from them that moment of joy that they had all found in each other's presence. Maybe if Hermione could show Ellie that life outside of hospital was worth fighting for, she would be more motivated to fight her demons. Maybe she would get out of here after all and she would then be able to realise her dreams of studying fashion.

Then there was her own situation. Hermione felt quietly confident now that with some perseverance she might be able to fight her own monsters and defeat the PTSD.

Voldemort had better watch out. She was coming for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical Prompt - [Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PIb6AZdTr-A)


	9. Gonna Fight 'Em All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is determined to fix her situation and understand the implications of some new visions. 
> 
> AKA a literary case for a potential thaw in Hermione/Draco relations during the Hogwarts years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

Sunday morning was spent practicing meditation. Hermione was sure that if she concentrated, she would be able to access some of the memories tucked within the furthest reaches of her brain.

However, try as she might to focus on her past, her thoughts kept drifting to Draco Malfoy.

His whole character seemed so contradictory. On one hand, he had gone out of his way to make her feel uncomfortable in her first few days at the hospital and he had taken away her magic. But then he had told her that he cared about her, that he had 'feelings' for her. Clearly those feelings were powerful enough for him to go against his family, at great personal cost to himself.

Of course, he might just have said those things to keep her under his control. Essentially, she was at his mercy; she had no way to tell whether he was telling her the truth. It was entirely possible that this was all a part of some ploy, a revenge plot maybe, to lull her into a false sense of security and get her to reveal important secrets.

Not that she was particularly sure that she held any secrets with the current state of her amnesia, but that might change in the coming week.

Maybe her memories of Draco would be a good place to start; if she could work out what kind of man he was to her, then she might be able to tell whether he was trustworthy.

_She was marching towards the stand-off between the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams, with Ron by her side._

_Ron had noticed Malfoy in the green robes of his team, and he was querying first why the reds were not flying and secondly why Draco was there at all._

_The blond boy was of course a smug bastard about it. "I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," he said. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."_

_That threw Ron for a moment, so Draco took the opportunity to taunt the boy further. "Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."_

_Whilst his new teammates were howling with laughter, Hermione felt a familiar indignation rise that always seemed to hit her when she was around Malfoy. He wasn't going to get away with insulting her friend like that. "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to_ buy _their way in._ They _got in on pure talent."_

_She glared at him openly and was pleased to see his smug look falter._

_Then he had to say the worst thing, didn't he? "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."_

_She hadn’t known what it meant at the time, but her housemates were infuriated. She had been ashamed of her own heritage when she had found out its meaning. All because of a petulant bully._

_What. A. Prat._

Back in the present, Hermione shook herself out of her recollection and relaxed back into the lotus pose. Prejudice was not a good look on Malfoy, and it certainly didn't gain him any brownie points in her book.

It appeared, however, that some kind of Draco-related floodgate had been released in her mind, as she didn't have time to consider the memory further before she was hit with another one.

_She would later blame it on the exhaustion that had arisen from the overuse of her time-turner, but Malfoy really had had it coming._

_They'd been comforting Hagrid about the imminent demise of Buckbeak, something that had been made inevitable by Lucius Malfoy's speech in the Committee meeting held to decide the creature's fate._

_He just_ had _to come along, with his cronies, to make things worse._

_"Look at him blubber!" Hermione wasn't sure if she could hate one individual more. Malfoy continued on, ignoring her furious glare, "Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!"_

_She rushed up to him before her friends could intervene and slapped him with all the strength that was available to her. The resounding smack was extremely satisfying, as was the fact that she'd made him actually stagger back._

_Hermione was going to hit him again, and launched into another tirade, "Don't you_ dare _call Hagrid pathetic; you foul... you evil..."_

_Her friends caught her arm before she could get another hit in, but she'd had the desired effect. Malfoy slinked off with his tail between his legs._

Another memory, another black mark against the good name of Draco Malfoy. It wasn't looking brilliant for him so far.

But where had her response come from? She wasn't normally a violent person, so she didn't quite understand why she would have hit him, regardless of whatever rude thing he had said. So maybe it wasn't so much about him at all.

Then there was the fact that he hadn't retaliated in any measurable way on that occasion. That was unlike him; he'd certainly kicked up enough of a fuss when the hippogriff had attacked him. It seemed as though she had affected him in some way; _why was that?_

_Draco was lazily taunting Ron again; this time during the chaos following the Quidditch World Cup whilst she and her two best friends had been fleeing for the safety of the woods._

_Ron had just tossed the blond a particularly colourful insult, when Draco smirked. "Language, Weasley." She could tell that he was enjoying this, and she despised him for it. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like_ her _spotted, would you?"_

 _Now_ that _confused her. Why would he care about her? She questioned him in an attempt to understand, "What's that supposed to mean?"_

 _His tone was light and mocking, but she could see something in his eyes that she couldn't quite define. It wasn't entirely hostile though. "Granger, they're after_ Muggles _, d'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around... they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."_

This was perhaps the most confusing memory of the lot so far. His behaviour was out of character based on their previous interactions. He had no reason to make himself known to them, to step out and warn her, however belligerently he had conducted himself.

In her second year, Draco had wanted the basilisk to kill Muggle-borns, and now he had actively tried to prevent her murder by members of his own family and the cult that they served.

It just didn't make sense.

_He reverted back to type later that year. Ron had been pestering her again about her partner to the Yule Ball. It was quite annoying really. "I'm not telling you; you'll just make fun of me."_

_Draco had slinked his way up behind them. "You're joking, Weasley? You're not telling me someone's asked_ that _to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"_

_His insults barely affected her now. But she still felt enough displeasure to cause a little mischief. "Hello, Professor Moody!" she called out across the hall and made a point of waving._

_It had the desired effect almost immediately; the boy went pale and jumped backwards, looking wildly around for Moody, who of course had not noticed the interaction at all._

_She laughed. "Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?"_

The funny thing was, she remembered, he hadn't had an insulting word to throw her way when she _had_ turned up to the ball, shocking everyone into pure disbelief.

Hermione was not a vain person, but even she could admit to herself that she'd looked a vision in that floaty, periwinkle blue dress, with her perfectly non-bushy hair and distinctly not-so-long-thank-you-very-much teeth.

She had had the night of her life talking and dancing with Victor Krum and ignoring all the other men in her life. And she _had_ noticed him staring, earning him glares from his date for the night, Pansy Parkinson.

From her time in school, she now remembered a few other small changes in his behaviour with regards to her. The time in their fifth year when Draco had left their train compartment when she’d asked, having ignored Harry’s prior request. Then, later that year, when he’d been gloating about his new position of power on the Inquisitorial Squad, he had called Harry and Ron derisive names, but had just left her as ‘Granger’.

The whole picture was now rounded out by his actions at Malfoy Manor. Yes, it was possible that his 'rescue' of Hermione was some sort of elaborate plan - a way to 'humiliate the Mudblood' - but that seemed somewhat unlikely given the frenzied way that Bellatrix had been interrogating her. Surely, if the Death Eaters required some information from her, they wouldn't have placed her here where she was next to useless and no longer had access to her memories. That just didn't add up at all.

 _"When you have eliminated the **impossible** whatever is left, however **improbable** , must be the truth."_ The Arthur Conan Doyle quote came to her as she deliberated the conundrum that was Draco Malfoy.

The evidence was pointing towards a potentially reformed bully, who had somehow, against all conceivable odds, softened enough towards her that he would try to protect her.

Hermione still wasn't convinced that she could fully trust him, or that he held stronger feelings than that of a decent human being, but it was a start.

Satisfied for the moment, she pushed herself out of her meditative pose and stretched. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that it was time for lunch. She'd consider the PTSD article from Anya later.

* * *

Ellie had convinced her to partake in a game of Twister after they had finished eating, which perhaps wasn't such a good idea after food, but improved everyone's mood in the ladies' common room.

When most of the others had been eliminated, it just came down to Hermione and Ellie, but really, Hermione did not stand a chance against the superior flexibility of her friend.

They shook hands good naturedly once Hermione inevitably collapsed after a particularly fiendish spin of the board. The girls wanted to play another game, but Hermione made her excuses and wandered back to her room.

She eagerly consumed the medical article but was left somewhat disappointed; there was no quick fix for PTSD.

The blurb from a prominent PTSD charity had this to say:

_"Just over a decade ago, most research showed PTSD to be an incurable condition (Benedek, Friedman, Zatzick, & Ursano, 2009) but evidence and research proves **it is possible for PTSD to be successfully treated** many years after the traumatic event occurred, which means it is never too late to seek help. Evidence suggests that around 70% of people who suffer with PTSD in the UK do not receive any professional help at all._

_Traumatic events can be very difficult to come to terms with, but confronting and understanding your feelings and seeking professional help is often the only way of effectively treating PTSD."_

The word incurable filled her with dread. Did this mean she would never be able to access her magic again?

However, the passage about potential treatments did help assuage her fears somewhat. Perhaps strong feelings might aid her in her recovery as well. She certainly was sufficiently motivated; maybe that would be enough in the end.

Either way, the original conclusion regarding her continuation of the Muggle therapeutic treatments appeared to be the best path forwards.

* * *

On Monday morning, as she made her way to her first session of the day with Ellie, she noticed Draco coming from the woods shoving something that looked suspiciously like a wand up his sleeve. "Wards," he muttered when she questioned him later.

Hermione was surprised to note that from that point onwards he attended all the therapy programmes that she had on her timetable. He still made no attempt to talk to her, though, and he often looked on-edge, as if he expected her to either relapse spectacularly, or as if he thought that Death Eaters might appear at any moment.

She took her treatment seriously that week, pushing herself to work through her emotions and to understand what had led up to that day at Malfoy Manor.

She was meditating in her room, after a particularly taxing day, when she remembered the quest for the Horcruxes. She remembered Riddle's Diary, Gaunt's Ring and Slytherin's Locket, and how they had already been destroyed by her friends.

Then she remembered their hopeless quest to find the remaining three Horcruxes: Hufflepuff's Cup, a Ravenclaw artefact and Nagini.

Perhaps that was what her friends were doing now, tracking down those remaining fragments of Voldemort's soul, making it possible to end his reign of terror at some point in the future. If the Horcruxes were not found and destroyed there really was no hope for her or for her friends.

This discovery reignited her resolve to regain her magical abilities. While she trusted her friends, she knew they needed her. They had always been a team; she couldn't let the side down.

Once again, however, she was left to contemplate the Malfoy complication. She knew now that he was a Death Eater, having seen his Dark Mark despite his attempt to hide it under long sleeves. 

Having observed him for most of the week now, she noticed that he sometimes grasped his arm and grimaced. Clearly, he was ignoring summons from the Dark Lord. This, however, did not permit him access to this vital information. Information that could lead to Voldemort's demise.

No, Hermione thought, she'd keep this knowledge to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDuzszjrdcc)


	10. Can't Take It Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The danger gets a bit too close to home for anyone's comfort. At their most vulnerable, a betrayal occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

On Saturday, Hermione awoke with a sense of purpose: today she was going to try and regain her magic. This was a big day.

The patients at Haywood had access to a whole host of newspapers, and that morning at breakfast, there was a noticeably sombre mood in the canteen.

When Hermione made her way over to her usual table with Ellie and the gang, she saw that most of the group were huddled around one of the papers. She couldn't quite make out the headline.

Ellie was sitting slightly to the side, looking somewhat shell-shocked, her food completely untouched. Hermione eased her way down onto the bench next to her and reached out to touch her arm. "Hey honey, are you okay?" Hermione asked.

Her friend shook her head and gestured across to the paper, "Did you see the news?"

"No, at least I didn't see anything besides the imminent threat of Coronavirus - have any cases been confirmed in the UK yet?"

Ellie shook her head. "No... Well not yet at least... There was a massive gas explosion in Woking town centre - that's literally five minutes away from here. We could have died!"

Mick, the schizophrenic one, interrupted, "Yeah, well a bunch of people _did_ die Ells. Stop being so fucking selfish."

"Hey! I'm not saying it's not sad and terrible, it's just... it's just I don't want to die. I don't want to die okay? I know that must come as a shock to everyone, hell it would have come as a shock to _me_ a few months ago, but these last few days I've... I've... I've just realised that I really want to get out of here. I want to _live,_ you know? I want to get better and beat this and get the fuck out of here and move on with my life. I... I..."

She could go on no further; Ellie collapsed forwards onto the table and burst into tears.

Hermione started rubbing her back in soothing circles, whilst glaring menacingly at Mick, who had the good grace to look sufficiently remorseful. Most of the others still appeared to be in varying degrees of shock.

At that moment, Draco walked into the canteen, pausing in the doorway and scanning the room. This was the first time he had entered the dining room since the morning that Hermione had sat at his table. Some of the other residents murmured in disbelief.

The light of the morning sun shone in from behind him, framing his hair like a halo. He looked like some great and terrible vengeful angel. The stony set of his face just furthered that imagery in Hermione's mind.

Once his eyes landed on hers, he jerked his head slightly then turned on his heel swiftly, heading in the direction of the library, which was normally deserted at this time of the day.

Giving the still sobbing Ellie a gentle squeeze around the shoulders, Hermione extracted herself from the table, having eaten only a bite of some toast with marmite, and grabbed a mug of tea to take with her.

* * *

Bursting into the library, Hermione immediately rounded on the boy. "Look, Malfoy, we can't wait any longer. We need to try getting back my magic again."

Draco widened his eyes and motioned at her to keep her voice down. "Are you crazy Granger? Don't go running your mouth off about _magic_ inside a Muggle hospital!" he whispered furiously. "Let me at least cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm..."

He withdrew his wand and muttered _Repello Muggletum_ under his breath.

"Alright, that should keep them out," he turned back to her, apparently mollified. "So I assume that your new urgency is due to the explosion in the nearby Muggle town?"

Hermione nodded. "It just seems weird; I might not remember much about some parts of my life, but I don't recall such explosions just happening in the world. There are so many safety checks in place - sensors to detect gas and such - an explosion on that scale doesn't just _happen_."

Draco grimaced, as if her theory confirmed something to him. "Yes, I thought that might be the case. I wasn't sure what usually happens in the Muggle world, but this has the Death Eaters' signature all over it," he paused for a moment, considering. "I'm not sure that it's safe for you here anymore. Magic or not, we're going to need to relocate."

She set down her untouched tea and sat down on one of the sofas that had a view out onto the lawn and paddock. There was a frost on the grass and the watery late-January sun was causing steam to rise from the ground, giving the vista a foggy and ethereal look.

This was just what she'd hoped to avoid. Of course it was imperative that she regain her magic as soon as possible, but part of her hoped that she would be able to remain here until she was ready emotionally for the next step. It had felt nice to gain a female friend like Ellie; from what she could remember, she'd never really had one of those.

She sighed wistfully, before turning back to look at Draco, taking him in for a moment.

He was wearing his signature black. This time a turtleneck cashmere sweater that clung to him in all of the right places, along with slim fitting distressed black jeans and suede Chelsea boots. He just exuded sophisticated chic; how he'd managed this in the Muggle style, Hermione had no idea.

Deciding on her next course of action, she took a fortifying breath, before holding out her hand. "I think it's time to try again. Everyone's busy with breakfast and then there's a boys versus girls netball match going on outside, so we'll be undisturbed. Plus you've cast the Muggle Repelling Charm. We'll be fine."

Draco looked wary again. "Are you sure that you're ready Hermione? How has this week gone? You looked to be making progress in the sessions, but I don't want you to rush this and hurt yourself."

Hermione smiled, letting her arm fall back to her side. "Look, your concern does you credit Draco, but I have to try. If the Death Eaters find out I'm here, then everyone here will be in danger. And if I leave here without recovering my magic, we will both be exposed. I'll be defenceless and you'll be distracted trying to protect me. Really, this is the best way."

Still looking unsure, Draco paused before withdrawing her wand from one of his sleeves. Hermione pushed herself off the sofa and moved towards the centre of the room before settling once more into the lotus pose, holding her hands open in her lap and taking a few relaxing breaths. She then turned towards Malfoy and nodded. "I'm ready."

He gingerly placed the wand in her hands and she tried earnestly to hold onto reality.

It was different this time; instead of being transported into a memory, she was overwhelmed with physical sensations: pain, extreme nausea, full body tremors.

The moment that she was hit by the Cruciatus Curse kept replaying in her corporeal form. The feeling of burning blades piercing her all over. Everything was on fire. She felt like she wanted to die. This was completely unbearable.

 _Come on, Hermione,_ some small voice within her pleaded, _fight this! You need to get your magic back!_

She fought back as best as she could, summoning to herself happy memories from the past couple of weeks: the taste of that peach melba, the dance party with Ellie, the escapism she'd achieved from reading Tolkien, the warm feeling she felt when she took the time to appreciate the vision that was Draco Malfoy...

She almost had it back under control when all sensation stopped; the room came back into focus.

Draco was holding her wand and had his trained at her. She wished she knew which spell he used to take her magic from her - it wasn't one that she knew.

A movement behind her caused Draco's head to whip up towards the door. Before he could retrain his wand in that direction, or Hermione could turn and see what had drawn his gaze, she heard the sound of running footsteps.

"Shit!" Draco growled.

"What was that?" Hermione enquired. "I thought the charm you cast would keep Muggles away?"

"It was Lucy. She must be a squib," Draco reasoned. "We need to stop her - she saw me using magic. If she's a squib, she'll know that we're wizards. With a bit of luck, she'll be on your side. But you never know..."

Out of the window, Hermione could see Lucy hurrying down the drive, a phone in her hand.

"Shit," she said, echoing Draco's previous sentiment. "That doesn't look like the actions of someone on my side - it looks like she's selling us out..."

“Fuck!” he cried, as Hermione scrambled up and they both sprinted as quickly as they could manage outside.

Unfortunately, the door between the hallway and the reception was locked again, and it took half a minute for someone to answer their summons to let the pair out - there were too many patients milling about for Draco to use magic to open the door without being spotted.

They both rushed past Jenny on the reception desk, who shouted indignantly at them as they ignored the sign-out procedure and ran out to intercept Lucy.

As they caught up with her, she turned slowly, hanging up from her call, and smiled at them contemptuously. "It's too late. I called them. They're on their way."

Hermione felt her blood turn to ice. "Who's on their way, Lucy?"

Lucy looked very self-satisfied in that moment; yet again, Hermione felt a strong desire to rain physical violence on the woman.

"The snatchers, of course. I can't have some fugitive magic users in my hospital can I?"

The ice settled in her heart. "What have you _done_ , Lucy? They'll kill us all! No Muggles are safe!"

Hermione turned to Draco, who appeared to be in shock and completely frozen in place. Lucy was still crowing in the background as she moved to tug him back into the present, when she heard the first cracks of Apparition.

This stirred Malfoy into action and he pushed her to the side, turning them both so that they wouldn't be recognised, while a green curse shot past them. As more snatchers and Death Eaters arrived, including Fenrir Greyback and someone who looked like the older version of one of Draco's cronies (Crabbe?), further curses started to fly through the air. These were mainly concentrated in their direction, but an errant one caught Lucy straight in her chest.

Hermione looked on as the woman flew backwards violently and crumpled like a broken ragdoll on the tarmac.

That was the last thing she saw as Draco finally found a moment between casting Shield Charms behind them to Apparate them out of danger.

The world squeezed around her as she was forced away from the scene of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [Gunshot - Lykke Li](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LcvuBGkVAqE)
> 
> And [Another One Bites the Dust - Queen](https://youtu.be/rY0WxgSXdEE)


	11. Stayin' Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the metaphorical fan. Strap in folks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)
> 
> TW: several minor character deaths, violence and torture and graphic descriptions of blood.

Conceivably, Hermione knew that she had Apparated in the past, but that didn't help her in this moment, given the state of her memories; she couldn't recollect how it felt when she'd done so in the past.

She felt distinctly uncomfortable; darkness descended upon her vision and her whole world was squeezed to the point where she felt she would not be able to draw another breath. Once her feet returned to solid ground, she fell to her knees and dry heaved from the sudden release of pressure.

When the world stopped spinning, the reality of her situation started to sink in.

Malfoy's eyes were darting around frantically, scanning for danger, and their appearance seemed to have drawn the attention of a young child, who was at that moment tugging on her father's arms and pointing to the pair that had _'just appeared like magic, Daddy'_.

Luckily for Hermione and Draco, the father just agreed with the girl indulgently and dragged her onwards along the path.

They appeared to have Apparated within some sparsely populated oak trees, just away from the pathways that surrounded a Lego model of London. _Legoland... why on Earth has he brought me to Legoland?_ she wondered.

She turned to question him, but he got in with a response before she could ask. "I had to pick somewhere nearby that I'd been to before. I was panicking okay - this was the first place I could think of."

Hermione had so many follow up questions to this; but she realised she was getting distracted from the bigger picture - that picture being that there were, at this very moment, Death Eaters and Snatchers crawling the hospital where she had been residing for the past two weeks.

The likelihood of those evil bastards leaving the area once they realised that she and Draco had escaped was slim. Either they'd stick around to try and question the staff and patients regarding Hermione and Draco's identity, or they would decide to wreak havoc upon the Muggles there, just out of sheer frustration of having lost their quarry. She felt sure that Lucy had not had the time to tell the Death Eaters their names, and she also thought that there had been too much confusion in the battle before they left there for them to have been recognised.

At any rate, both options were terrifying Hermione; she needed to go back and protect her friends. To protect Ellie.

She rounded on Malfoy, "You _bastard_ _!_ Why did we run!? We should have stayed to fight! We should have stayed to protect my friends! We could have led those monsters away, diverted them from those innocent Muggles. We need to go _back!_ "

Malfoy sighed, as if he had sensed already that she would say something like this. "Hermione, we can't. We'd be outnumbered and..."

"I don't care. I don't _fucking_ care. Listen - you've said that I mean something to you, but so far you've avoided me, you've antagonised me and, honestly, I've not seen anything from you that would suggest to me that I can trust you," Hermione started. "On the other hand, I have people that I care about in there, people that don't deserve to die. If you were my friend, you'd help me save them. If you were on my side, you'd help me."

Hermione could tell that he was wavering; she knew that if he was really on her side, as he claimed, he needed her to trust him. Otherwise, what was to stop her from turning him over to the Order should he prove unreliable? He was severely lacking in friends at the moment, assuming he had betrayed Voldemort and his supporters, so he needed to demonstrate that he really was one of the good guys.

This was his chance at redemption.

He hesitated before slowly nodding his head. "Okay... okay. I'll go in and retrieve your friend; Ellie isn't it? But that's it. And you're staying here..."

She interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. "Like _hell_ I am. Listen. If I'm left here, without my magic, I'm completely exposed. And I have no way of knowing if you're okay or if something has gone wrong. I'd be stuck in the middle of bloody _Legoland_ with no money, no ID and no way of contacting any of my friends. I _need_ to go with you."

Draco adopted his most haughty of expressions, his eyes turning to stone and narrowing, before he conceded. "Fine. On your head be it. It's not like any of us are going to survive once He wins. And if you're really not going to trust me unless I let you do this, we might as well go out in... how would you Gryffindors put it? A _'blaze of glory'_."

He said the last part mockingly, but behind all the bluster, Hermione could see that this idea was paining him. He was just too proud to admit it.

"Right then. There's not a moment to lose. Take me back so we can save Ellie and as many of the others as we can."

He sighed and reached for her arm and the whole ordeal that was Apparition was forced upon her once more.

* * *

They appeared right behind the bins, around the back of the kitchens. In the distance she could hear screaming and the terrified and broken cries of the dying.

Her worst fears had been realised; the Death Eaters hadn't left when she and Draco had. They'd lived up to their name and stayed behind to massacre the Muggles on the property.

Hermione sent a quick plea to whatever deity might be looking down on her in that moment and hoped against hope that Ellie was still okay.

Draco beckoned for her to follow him as he made his way cautiously and surreptitiously around the side of the building, past the canteen, towards one of the side entrances.

Going past one of the windows, Hermione stopped as something caught her eye.

She could see straight through onto the lawn, where there were werewolves stalking panic-stricken patients. She could just make out the form of Dr Heusen, laying prone by the smoking hut, blood seeping onto the ground from his torn out throat, his frozen face squeezed into a grimace of pain.

The furniture in the canteen had been completely shattered, and it looked like the nurse, Charity, had been the unfortunate casualty of one of the explosions, as various pieces of shrapnel protruded from her body. She appeared to still be alive, but only barely, and probably not for much longer.

"No..." Hermione muttered, devastated; the nurse had seemed like a genuinely good soul; Charity hadn't deserved to meet an end like that.

Draco tugged her arm. "Come on Granger, I think I've found Ellie."

He pointed towards the room that had always been sectioned off, that could be reached from the canteen.

Through the doorway, she could just about make out the form of Greyback, prowling forwards and backwards, his teeth bared as he pressed his face inches from the quaking individuals who were kneeling in a line, apparently questioning them one by one.

There was another Death Eater in there - Crabbe Senior, she thought - and he was shooting off curses with an air of indifference, smiling when he elicited a particularly anguished scream from one of the Muggles, who all appeared to be frozen in place.

Hermione scanned the faces; she recognised three by name: Mick, the schizophrenic, Dr Okoye, from her physical examination, and - _thank the Lord_ \- Ellie, on the end, who appeared to be as yet unharmed. There were two others, but she hadn't gotten to know them.

She calculated their odds at success; two Death Eaters was a bit of a long shot, especially without the use of her magic, but it could have been worse. Maybe if they were sneaky and rushed in with the element of surprise...

It appeared that Draco was on the same page, as they made their way into the building, past a still gurgling Charity, to whom Hermione cast one last pitying glance. They crept up to the side of the room, out of sight of Greyback and Crabbe. Malfoy cast a Shield and Disillusionment Charm over them, as they sidled closer to the entrance.

Now that Hermione could hear what was being said, she realised that the five Muggles were being questioned regarding her and Malfoy's identities, as she had suspected might happen. She could also now make out the torture curses that Crabbe Senior was casting on his victims, alternating between the Cruciatus Curse, and other equally traumatic curses, such as Diffindo.

Hermione watched in horror as Dr Okoye's left hand was severed clean off, his eyes scrunched in pain as the blood poured onto the mahogany floor. Given that the doctor didn't seem to be able to move any limbs, it seemed likely that he would bleed out in only a matter of minutes, facing the same fate as his colleagues.

Greyback didn't seem to be making much headway with his questioning, as he didn't know who he was asking about. His demands to know the identities of the two magic users were met with pleas of ignorance by each of the kneeling figures.

It seemed, however, that Mick was calculating something. When he was questioned again by the werewolf, he deliberated and then started to speak. "I don't know about any fucking magic, but there was a new girl, weird one, one of your friends wasn't she Ellie? Herm..."

He started to say her name, when Ellie cried out, "No, Mick, no!"

Fenrir snarled furiously and whipped around. _"Sectumsempra!"_

Scarlet bloomed across Ellie's chest and slashes covered her body, including her throat, perilously close to her jugular.

Forgetting herself, Hermione screamed, giving away their position instantly.

Before she, or the Death Eaters, could react further, Malfoy pushed her roughly forward into the room, grabbing her hair tightly and baring her neck to the two Death Eaters.

"Here you go, friends. The infamous Hermione Granger. I've been keeping her nice and docile for you. Took away her fucking magic, didn't I? Made her think she was crazy, sticking her in a madhouse," his voice was cruel and cutting and clinical. "I know Aunt Bella wanted to question her more, but it was too delicious an opportunity to pass up on, especially after all that this Mudblood has done. Stealing her magic from a pure-blood. The bint thought I was on her side, that I was going to help her get her magic. Ha! And she was meant to be the smart one of the 'Golden Trio'."

Across the room, Hermione could see bright red liquid spurting from the wound in Ellie's neck - _arterial blood_ \- gushing in time to the girl's heartbeat. Her face had drained of all colour, her breath became rapid and shallow, and her eyelids were fluttering as she lost consciousness. This was not something that Hermione could save her from. The girl would be dead in a matter of moments.

And she had been betrayed.

Against her better judgement, Hermione had pinned her hopes on Malfoy, based on some stupid analysis of his interactions with her over their time at school.

She had been grasping for signs of a thaw in his opinion of her, when of course there never had been one.

He had always been a cunning bigot. And she'd fallen for it like the idiot she was.

Stealing herself for the inevitable Killing Curse that would soon hit her - if she was lucky - she thought on her own foolishness and wished that she could remember the faces of her parents one last time.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [Stayin' Alive - Bee Gees](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNFzfwLM72c)


	12. Bring Me to Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold tight, it's not the end of the world...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)
> 
> Check the TW from the previous chapter. Please proceed with caution.

_She took a deep breath and closed her eyes._

Silence. All-encompassing silence as her pulse thrummed in her ears.

Logically she knew that there must be sounds; the steady flow of blood dripping to the floor from Dr Okoye’s wrist, the death rattle as Ellie gasped her last, the harsh breathing of the blond traitor standing next to her. At that moment, however, her adrenaline muffled everything else into nothingness as she waited for the green light to filter through her eyelids, signalling her last second on this mortal coil.

Fleetingly, she allowed herself to wonder what might happen next. She remembered Harry talking about the death of Sirius, when he had fallen and disappeared through the ancient rippling veil; but that didn’t mean that there had been anything on the other side for him to fall in to.

On a more spiritual level, she thought that her primary school might have been Church of England, so she supposed that she must have been christened at some point. However, that didn’t necessarily mean that Hermione believed in a heaven; _were witches even allowed into Heaven anyway?_

She wondered idly why she wasn’t dead yet; maybe she’d missed the light of the spell and had already passed on. A sharp tug on the baseline of her hair, where Malfoy grasped her still, disabused her of that notion.

Green light flashed. _Finally._

But the physical sensations remained, and suddenly she was being launched violently down the steps and back into the dining room as someone swore loudly in front of her. The falling sensation made her stomach lurch, and her eyes flew open just in time to see Crabbe Senior crumple to the floor, before she hit her head sharply on the edge of one of the pieces of broken furniture and the blackness returned.

* * *

The first thing that Hermione was aware of as she came too was a dull ache at the base of her skull. She reached up cautiously to the area causing most pain and then brought her hand back in front of her face; even through slightly blurred vision she was relieved to see no bleeding. That did not, however, preclude the possibility of concussion or, more seriously, internal bleeding.

As her eyes began to regain focus, she took note of the scene in front of her.

Whatever incantation that had been holding the five Muggles up appeared to have ceased. Ellie's body was slumped face first in a heap in the middle of the floor; she looked so small and insignificant there, and so still, but Hermione knew that the girl could never, and would never, be insignificant in her eyes.

Her growing anger at the sight triggered a second wave of adrenaline that helped her to overcome the last traces of her headache and concentrate further on her surroundings.

The other Muggles had clearly aimed to get the hell out of dodge once the spell had broken; Mick, the self-serving bastard, had managed to make it out, along with another patient that Hermione hadn’t remembered by name. The other Muggle that she hadn’t recognised, one of the older gentlemen, hadn’t been so fortunate; it looked like a curse had hit him square in the back as he had tried to make his escape.

A trail of blood led from the raised room, down the stairs and beyond Hermione; she turned to see that Dr Okoye had managed to crawl towards Charity and was now cradling her with one arm as he held the severed limb of the other up against his chest. Being a doctor, Hermione could tell that he knew that his chances of surviving now were slim; he hadn’t even bothered to attempt a tourniquet or any other form of first aid. Instead, he sat, rocking back and forth, tears running down his face as he whispered unintelligible and comforting words to the nurse. Hermione wondered if they had been lovers, or merely just good friends, brought together by the role that they shared in caring for broken souls.

 _“STUPEFY!”_ Greyback's voice cut through her momentary reverie and snapped her attention back to the room in front of her.

Greyback was furiously snarling and hurling unforgivable curses in quick succession towards Draco, who was limping and holding his arm awkwardly as he responded with weak shield charms and attempted to stay out of reach of the werewolf’s gnashing pointed teeth and unnaturally sharp yellow nails.

It hit her all at once; Draco never had betrayed her, he'd simply lied to protect them. She'd let herself believe the lie so easily, but now it was obvious that he'd just acted the part of the Dark Lord's agent to buy them time. She was surprised at the level of relief she felt, not just that he was on her side but that her trust in him was not misplaced. But she also wondered what it meant that she was so quick to believe the worst in him. It was clear that her insecurities regarding his sincerity and change in heart were not going away any time soon.

Malfoy was keeping his own at the moment against Greyback, but just barely. He was on her side and Hermione knew that she had to act quickly, as the sheer physicality of the werewolf was visibly sapping Draco's strength. But without her magic she could not be anything more useful than a distraction; and that could very well end up distracting the wrong wizard.

She noticed her wand lay within reach; it had clearly fallen from Draco’s clothes as he had pushed her out of the way of the fighting.

She had two options: pick up the wand and hope that her will to save Malfoy would be great enough to break through her past trauma that had blocked her access to magic; or snatch it with a covered hand and make a run for it, leaving Malfoy to his fate.

To her surprise, the decision was a quick one. She may have thought of Draco as a two-faced villain mere moments ago, but the thought of him dying on her watch didn’t sit right with her. On some level she found that she cared enough about her schoolmate to attempt to save him; after what he had done at Malfoy Manor, it was simply the right thing to do.

Mind made up, she steeled herself for pain and reached forward.

Instead of the terrifying visions that she had endured in the past few weeks, or the excruciating sensations that she had experienced earlier on this same day, she felt a tingling sensation, like pins and needles, spread through her whole body, emanating from her right hand that was now gripped tightly on the vine wood.

Colours swam in front of her as she sensed her magic returning to her, along with a wall of knowledge; memories that had thus far been suppressed. One, in particular, came to the fore, as it mirrored the present situation closely: the feeling of power that had come when she had been handed this wand for the first time, in Ollivander’s shop on Diagon Alley.

A pained yell snapped her into action, and she ran forward casting protective charms as she reached Draco from behind, grabbing his wand arm firmly and Apparating them out of danger.

* * *

They landed at the top of the stone tower of a ruined castle, perched on a hill. From her vantage point, Hermione could see smartly maintained grounds which then gave way to buildings that stretched down the hill, and then spread out further towards the leafy downs in the distance.

Beyond the downs, the late January sun was gradually setting behind the treeline; it's wintery golden glow cast dramatic colours of orange and violet against the darkening patchy clouds.

 _Guildford_ , she thought. It was one of the larger towns south of the M25 and it had historic roots dating back to the Celtic and Roman eras.

Her mother had taken her here once for a Christmas shopping trip; she’d loved climbing the cobbled high street and following the signs to the old castle, on top of which they now stood.

Beside her, Draco slumped forward, pulling his arm from her grip to keep himself upright against the stone walls. He breathed a jagged moan and appeared to be highly disoriented.

“Here,” Hermione said, gesturing towards his injured arm. “Let me take a look at that.”

Stubborn fool that he was, Draco made no move to comply, but merely surveyed his surroundings as haughtily as he could, whilst grimacing in pain.

“I see you got your magic back Granger, good for you,” he offered distractedly, finally landing his gaze on her face. “So where did you bring us? Seems a bit dramatic, even for you.”

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Guildford. Surrey. We’re currently standing in the tower of Guildford Castle to be precise. At this time of day, it is closed to the public, so we're safe for now.”

Malfoy looked somewhat mollified, so Hermione pressed on. “So are you going to let me take a look at that, or are you planning on bleeding to death like Ellie…”

Her voice caught as she said her friend’s name and ice began to permeate her veins, but she shook herself to focus on the matter at hand and reached out towards the wilful boy, beckoning him in a way that brooked no nonsense.

Rolling his eyes, Draco released his arm towards her. “Sure you know what you’re doing here, Granger? I’d hate to lose all my bones over this; we don’t have any Skele-Gro on us, and that shit takes too fucking long to work anyway.”

Hermione huffed impatiently as she grabbed at him. On closer inspection she could see that the wound bore the resemblance of claw marks; clearly one of Fenrir’s launches had hit its mark.

Considering her limited arsenal of healing spells, she decided on _Vulnera Sanentur_ and murmured it three times.

Malfoy laughed as he heard which incantation she had chosen. She threw him a sharp look, so he explained himself, “Same one Snape had to use when your precious Potter tried to off me in sixth year. I wouldn’t let him get that close again. Aunt Bella taught me a few tricks these past few months.”

“Alright Malfoy,” she said as she examined her handiwork; fully healed, barely a mark left. “You’re sounding awfully anti-Potter for someone who claims to care for me.”

He chuckled, straightening to his full height, drawing in a deep breath and stretching out his limbs, clearly testing for further injuries. “Well, I never said I was pro-Potter, or his weasel side-kick for that matter. I just said I was pro-you. Or something along those lines…”

He trailed off as if he was contemplating an idea of great importance.

Using the break in conversation to take stock, Hermione realised that her fight or flight instinct was beginning to wear off. Now that she and Draco were out of immediate danger, the reality of the past hour or so began to crash down upon her.

She began to feel jittery and started shivering uncontrollably. She hugged her arms around her torso and dropped lower to the floor, putting her head between her knees to combat the sudden light-headedness that she was experiencing. Intense emotions started to bubble up and the aching in her head that she had been ignoring started to flare up, causing her to feel nauseous as well.

Draco crouched down to her, tentatively grabbing her shoulder.

"Granger, what's happening? Talk to me."

But she couldn't control her shaking enough to speak. She was beginning to sob, which made the idea of responding even more impossible.

Through tear-blurred vision she could see emotions warring on Malfoy's face.

Suddenly, he was grasping both sides of her face and pulling her towards him. The kiss that followed landed with so much force that their teeth clashed and the shock of his action made her freeze immediately. He moved his lips against hers urgently and for a moment she was completely stunned.

Seconds later, after the surprise had worn off enough for her to regain her senses, she pushed Malfoy away from her hastily. He stumbled back slightly as she wiped her eyes and mouth with the sleeve of her sweater.

"What the fuck, Malfoy!" she said, raising herself back up so that she was standing tall once more. "Do you normally go around kissing girls who are having breakdowns?"

He eyed her warily as he rose slowly to join her; after a moment his face quickly returned to its typical mask of indifference. He gazed at her impassively as he shrugged his shoulders. "You were having a fit and that didn't seem like a sensible thing to do in such an exposed location. I improvised. I'm pretty good at that, as you'll no doubt remember."

Infuriated, Hermione turned on her heel and stormed off in search of somewhere that they could shelter for the night.

Even though she was no longer having a panic attack, that didn't mean she had dealt with the emotions that had triggered it, and she really needed to be alone.

They’d risked everything, _everything_ , to go back and save Ellie and as many others as they could, and she’d failed. If only they had gotten there moments earlier, if only she’d kept it together enough to regain her magic that morning, none of this would have happened. It was all her fault. Ellie’s death was on _her_ hands.

But along with the guilt, another emotion was rising. A feeling so powerful that it overwhelmed everything: anger, and with that a desire for revenge.

She was no helpless damsel in distress, in need of saving. She was _Hermione Granger_. She'd been told by friends and teachers that she was clever and she knew for damn sure that she was brave; she'd proven that time and time again.

Fenrir Greyback had made an enemy of the wrong witch, and he was going to pay – slowly, agonisingly – for what he’d done to her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [Bring Me to Life - Evanescence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3MKTm-49uI)
> 
> You might notice a small shout out to one of my favourite stories in this fandom, The Right Thing To Do. Check out the series [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1007625).


	13. Various Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fights, storms and revelations. Featuring the Lake District and Storm Ciara (February 2020).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits by [Canttouchthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canttouchthis)

The day that Hermione had regained her magic had changed everything. She was no longer some tragic victim, in need of saving by the big bad (handsome… mysterious… dangerous…) blond in her life; she was a fully trained witch, best in her class and perfectly capable of strategising the fall of Voldemort and all of his evil cronies, with Fenrir Greyback, in particular, being pretty high up there on that list.

The only problem was, to truly defeat the Dark Lord, she needed to regroup with her friends and the rest of the Order, and she had run out of ideas on how to find them.

She’d been brainstorming possible ways of getting in contact. The most obvious being to summon a Patronus to send a message. Back when she’d escaped Bill and Fleur’s wedding with Harry and Ron, she’d felt confident that she could perform such magic; as a member of the Order, she’d been privy to the technique, and she’d been practicing it during the summer before Seventh Year.

But the trauma of the past few weeks was still affecting her magic, including her ability to summon a corporeal Patronus. Malfoy had offered to help, but despite trying a few times, he was unable to cast a Patronus of his own.

Whilst knowing the importance of the task, she hadn’t tried that hard to help tutor him; ever since he had kissed her as part of his somewhat unorthodox method of snapping her out of her panic spiral, she had been treating him with some level of distrust and had been distancing herself from him as much as possible. Given that they were on the run together, this wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but the avoidance was her way of coping with the whole situation that she now found herself in.

Malfoy’s actions on the top of the castle had thrown her. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel some attraction, but more that she _did_. The feeling that she got every time she let her guard down around him or let her mind wander in his vicinity scared her. Perhaps it was just a leftover from her gratitude for him saving her, _twice,_ or the memory of his scorching lips on hers that haunted her every night as she tried to settle for sleep; but she found herself catching little details that she had overlooked before.

Things like how he often furrowed his brow when he was thinking, then would sometimes follow up this action by sticking his tongue out slightly. This could have been comical, were it not for the fact that it drew her attention to his lips in a way that confused and disorientated her.

This might have all been fine had she felt that he was likewise as affected; but from the moment that she had pushed him off her, he’d been inscrutable and closed off. Her attempts to stay away from him seemed to be working fine for him too.

She wondered whether his initial declaration in the smoking hut, about him caring ‘so fucking much’ about her, about being a ‘coward’ about his ‘feelings’, was a way to distract her from his previous behaviour at the hospital and to get her to trust him.

All evidence pointed to that being the case, if she ignored the unavoidable… But, despite her best efforts, she could still feel the echo of his lips on hers, and recall the way his eyes went wide. That moment, that first kiss — for a second it had been different, as though it were a meeting of two kindred souls, not adversaries. Indeed, some small part of her fantasised that it had been like that for him too.

But the instance had passed quickly and she’d been the one to ruin it. After her rejection, he’d explained it all away; the kiss had simply been his way of snapping her out of her panic spiral. The passion that she thought she’d detected was all a figment of her imagination.

It was impossible, laughable, to think that he would consider her in that way at all. He might be ‘pro-Hermione’, but that was on a purely academic level, she felt sure; she had earned his respect over the years with her tenacity and her academic achievements. He was never going to care about a Muggleborn as more than a friend; his breeding and upbringing just wouldn’t allow that. In fact, she could argue it was commendable he’d managed to push through his ingrained hatred to find it in himself to help her at all. She must repulse him; he’d certainly told her that enough by his behaviour in the past.

And yet, the thought that kept mulling around her head, tormenting her: why had he defected? Why had he left the sanctity of his family? What did he have to gain?

It made no sense, and Hermione didn’t think that she had enough evidence yet to make a judgement. So, to protect her heart and her sanity, she distanced herself, both emotionally and physically. She had much more to contend with than such trivialities.

But still, sometimes, when she was shivering against the late-Winter nights with flimsy charms keeping her warm, she’d let herself imagine momentarily having him beside her, about them sharing another kiss.

And, in her dreams, she wouldn’t ruin that moment.

* * *

The weather towards the end of January had been unseasonably mild, which made things easier for the pair as they had Apparated the length and breadth of the country. They hadn’t needed more substantial protection from the elements than the shelter that they could conjure magically.

Two weeks into February, however, both travellers felt so weary that a night in a comfy and peaceful location proved to be too tempting a proposition to deny.

Hermione had fond memories of exploring the Lake District with her parents; climbing Scafell Pike with her father and then tucking into a delicious and warming meal in The Boot Inn nearby, before settling in for the night in one of their luxurious rooms upstairs.

Of course, they couldn’t stay at a place like that,somewhere with surrounding buildings, no matter how few, that could house all manner of informants. Their betrayal by Lucy had burned them and they wouldn’t be caught out again.

The pair had even taken to disguising their appearances using Muggle techniques. This had initially amused Malfoy, but he’d later grudgingly admitted that dying his distinctive hair, including his eyebrows, to a shade that bordered between dark brown and black, was a smart move. The fact that magic wasn’t involved made the solution a little more permanent and impervious to detection than the quicker methods at their disposal.

Hermione especially liked the fact that, with his pale skin and pointed features, he really _did_ now resemble one of the vampires that she’d liked in a young adult TV show she’d watched as an early teenager. Of course, she wouldn’t be telling _him_ that; not that he’d know about Damon Salvatore…

Despite the precautions they’d taken, it was still a matter of some debate whether they could risk being near _any_ Muggles at all. But the need for a night of relative comfort won out and they settled on a National Trust campsite by Wast Water in the Lake District.

What surprised Hermione, however, was the weird looks that they’d received from the member of staff taking their nefariously transfigured cash for one of the more upmarket wooden pods toward the back of the site. It made her feel uncomfortable and paranoid, but they soon discovered the reason for the incredulous looks.

Hermione hadn’t been monitoring the weather forecast, but, after Storm Ciara hit, she made a mental note to add it to her list of things to do so that they wouldn’t be caught unawares going forward. Whilst the pod they’d been allocated had been sturdy enough, and warm due to the heating, it was hardly an ideal location for the storm that engulfed them.

The Met Office recorded 177 mm of rain in the 24 hours running up to four in the afternoon on Sunday, and they were aware of every centimetre of that downpour, as the waterline of the lake crept further and further up the grounds of the campsite and towards their precariously positioned pod. Add to the deluge the fact that winds were gusting up to 100mph at the tops of the peaks that surrounded their valley, and the scenario became rather too claustrophobic for Hermione’s liking.

There was only so much that you could do when trapped in a ‘cosy’ pod built for two adults, without being forced to acknowledge the other human inhabiting your space, but damn it Hermione tried, she really did. Luckily, there were two separate mattresses, but they hadn’t been provided with any form of entertainment to distract themselves with.

One possible diversion that they had at their disposal, was a standard Muggle radio that they had acquired on their travels; but this seemingly innocuous device triggered their _eighth_ argument of the day.

Once the tense silence following their previous disagreement had gotten too much for Hermione to bear, she had leaned over to turn the radio on. She pressed the auto-tune button until she found a song playing that she liked: Electric Light Orchestra’s ‘Mr Blue Sky’.

“Go back,” Malfoy demanded.

She turned to frown at him. “Why? I like this one.”

“Well, I don’t, it’s too fucking upbeat, and in this weather that’s really not something that I need. You can live in your land of sunshine and rainbows, but I liked the other channel. Turn it back.”

“Fuck you, Malfoy, this is one of my favourite songs. You can pick a station after this.”

But he took no notice and strode over, grabbing the radio out of her hands and pressing the tuning button to put on a song that Hermione didn’t recognise. She didn’t care for it though, too emo and too much screaming for her liking; she preferred music that she could sing along to.

“Oh, and you think this is so much better, do you? This guy is literally asking someone to ‘break him down’ and ‘bury him’. I hate everything about this; change it!”

He rolled his eyes, then fiddled with the radio again. “Fine; there was another good artist playing.”

He smiled as he landed on Norah Jones’ ‘Don’t Know Why’, then set the radio down on the opposite side of his body to hers, essentially making it out of her reach. He then relaxed back into his cot, chucking his hands behind his neck, and looking smugly up at the beams above him.

The change in vibe threw her for a moment — what a weird combination of tastes — but she supposed that the emo genre spoke to his ‘dark tortured soul’ and the easy jazz to his privileged upbringing.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Norah Jones, she did; it reminded her of Sunday afternoons reading in the front lounge with her parents sitting together on the sofa, exchanging notes on their latest professional periodical. But it was the principal of the matter. She had said that one of her favourite songs was playing, and he’d completely ignored that.

Well, she wasn’t going to let him get away with such self-entitled behaviour; it would set a dangerous precedent.

Steeling herself for confrontation, she got up and reached over his prone body to snatch up the radio. But, before she could, Malfoy grabbed her wrist and sat up abruptly, pulling her so that she was standing between his knees. “No, I don’t think so Granger. I don’t want to be subjected to your appalling taste in such a confined space. There’s only so much that I can put up with before I Avada myself.”

Her frustration at the wizard was reaching the point that she knew it would soon boil over into a full blown shouting match. Of course, she could just Apparate herself out of the situation; but the stress of the past few weeks were pushing her over the edge. She _wanted_ to fight. Ready to go in hard, she stood firm and fixed him with her most contemptuous stare.

James Morrison’s ‘You Give Me Something’ started playing; the jarring disparity between the upbeat lilting of the singer and her own indignation only served to infuriate her further.

“Oh, I’m so _sorry_ that my taste offends you, Malfoy. I forgot that you are the paragon of all good choices.”

He stood, forcing her to take a step back to avoid being pressed against him. “What is that supposed to mean, Granger? If you’ve got something to say; spit it out.”

He was crowding her space again, so she took another step back, whilst trying not to look like she was retreating. “Well, besides the obvious… there’s…” she trailed off, racking her brain for something to pin on him other than his decision to take the Dark Mark, which she suspected might have been forced upon him, before remembering the Yule Ball. In particular, she recalled his date that night.

Pansy Parkinson had been fawning over him since their Third Year, and Hermione had nothing but contempt for the girl who had always used her position as the popular girl in her house to bully other students. She’d been the one to start the Weasley is Our King chant, that had so upset Ron in Fifth Year, and that wasn’t the worst of her crimes in Hermione’s eyes. Pansy’s involvement in the Inquisitorial Squad was also par for the course for someone who seemed to thrive off making the lives of others as miserable as possible.

If Malfoy was going to insult her taste, then he was making this argument personal, and she was happy to go there too. “Parkinson. The girl was sadistic, petty and a bully, but you allowed her to put her hands all over you. Doesn’t seem like your taste was particularly stellar there. Settling for someone so vapid and mean just because she pandered to you doesn’t scream ‘discerning’ to me. Am I wrong?”

Draco was practically growling by the time she had finished cutting into him, and she realised that they had backed up further to the point that her back was now against the panels of the pod. His eyes were flashing whilst he responded. “If we’re talking about hangers on, care to explain your little crush on Weasel number six? You were clearly a Ravenclaw, sorted incorrectly but for your apparent ‘bravery’; you were the academic know-it-all with no friends… Did that make you desperate enough to settle for someone with no discernible talent? Except for being lucky with who he happened to sit with on the _fucking_ Hogwarts Express.”

He brought his arms down with some force at either side of her head, causing her to jump in shock. The expression on his face was shifting, from pure disdain to something different, something heated. She noted as he stuck his tongue out as he had done so in the past in concentration; but this time to swipe against slightly chapped lips, and his eyes roved down her face to rest on her own.

They stood, with her caged and trapped by her rising and conflicting emotions, and him by some struggle warring within himself. She was about to speak, when he exhaled loudly and pushed himself away. He turned on his heel, forced the French doors open and strode out into the elements, ignoring the perils and disappearing behind the sheets of rain.

She allowed herself to let go of her tightly bound nerves then; curling in on herself momentarily, before letting out a frustrated scream. She was missing something important; she knew she was. But she just couldn’t put her finger on it.

‘At Last’ by Etta James came on. She hit the radio with a blasting spell.

* * *

It was only a few minutes later, after she had calmed down to a more rational state of mind, that Hermione noticed something poking out from underneath Malfoy’s pillow.

She moved closer to get a better look, before she was suddenly aware of what she was looking at: the fool had gone out into one of the most powerful storms of the past few years, with no coat, and, more importantly, no _wand._

For a moment, she was stunned by the enormity of the wizard’s stupidity. Her second reaction, however, was one of concern. She knew the surrounding terrain and, armed with her wand, she could probably muddle her way around, despite the atrocious weather.

But Malfoy had neither of these advantages, and clearly he was too stubborn to face her so soon after their fight, so the fool was now endangering his life purely to save face.

This thought made her so angry that she could throttle him herself. Luckily for him, however, her better and more noble nature won out, and she decided to go out and find him.

Sheltering herself appropriately, Hermione set out into the elements.

Given that the rising water had cut off routes to the South, she was left with two options in terms of directions to search; either directly north up the valley to the small hamlet of Wasdale Head, or up the well worn path to the East taken by hikers making their way up to England’s highest mountain. Working off a hunch that hinged on Malfoy’s penchant for dramatics, she chose the latter route.

As she battled against the raging winds and sheeting rain, keeping her eyes peeled for a lone wanderer, she had time to think further on the last moments of their argument.

She had felt sure, just for a heartbeat, that despite his vitriol he had been about to kiss her again. Further to this, Hermione knew that she would have let him.

What that meant, she wasn’t sure. They’d been moving almost constantly since the confrontation at the hospital, and she’d been so focussed on solving the issue of finding her friends, and then the Horcruxes, that she hadn’t confronted her growing arousal around Malfoy. Or at least, she hadn’t beyond her late evening fantasies.

It was the kind of arousal that seemed inevitable; inescapable chemistry, that seemed to be simmering below the surface. Feelings that she’d had for the opposite sex in the past seemed to pale in comparison.

Yes, she’d been living in close quarters with Harry and Ron for months when they had first gone on the run, and yes, there had been moments when she had felt a connection forming with Ron.

But Malfoy had called her out on one of her own snipes at her closest, though most frustrating, friend. From memory, that particularly cutting remark had been levelled in fifth year, whilst discussing Harry’s treatment of Cho. She’d been frustrated by Ron’s thoughtlessness in his responses, indeed she’d even called him an ‘insensitive wart’ at the time too. She didn’t know how Malfoy knew that she had compared Ron to an inanimate object on that occasion; they’d been in the Gryffindor common room at the time. Perhaps the exchange had made it into the gossip grapevine.

With space, she could appreciate that despite the easy attraction she felt there, things with Ron could never be more than comfortable. Considering the amount that they had bickered in the past, comfortable was a pretty good thing for a friend, but, bracing herself against a particularly strong gust, she wondered now why her feelings had been growing more recently. Yes, she’d been attracted to Ron for years, that much had been obvious by her behaviour in fourth year, but it wasn’t as if he was the _only_ person she’d been attracted to in her the past few years.

Yet, before Malfoy Manor, she had found herself drawn to his sense of humour and laid-back nature, qualities that were so different from her own. She’d been wrapped up in their mission and dodging danger, almost constantly. Anything that she had felt for both of her friends had been amplified; with Harry, this had been a fierce protectiveness, but with Ron, the friend who had held her at Dumbledore’s funeral, she’d felt protected.

Before Malfoy Manor… What had happened there had changed everything and Hermione could accept that now. Even if she was completely off base when it came to her hope that there might be something there between her and the object of her frantic search, she knew that she could never settle for comfort alone again. Not now that she’d experienced something that both terrified and exhilarated her.

As she began to reach the end of the trees that lined the overflowing stream that ran along the summit path, she spotted a huddled shape, sheltering against a creaking oak that was bowing under the onslaught of the storm.

Her overwhelming urge to scream at him, to tell him how utterly stupid and reckless he had been, was overtaken by her relief at finding him alive, if not well.

* * *

Later that evening, after she had treated Malfoy for mild hypothermia and provided him with a warming soup, she was unable to relax and found herself observing his sleeping form on the other bed. The experience of fighting with both him, and nature itself, still felt raw.

From across the room she heard unintelligible muttering, or at least it was unintelligible until she heard, quite distinctly, him utter one single word.

“Hermione.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical prompt - [Various Storms & Saints - Florence + the Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eEoEGF7pDyU)
> 
> Shout out included for one of my favourite characters from my formative years, Damon Salvatore. I think Draco has similarities with both Damon in TVD and Kylo Ren in Star Wars; does anyone agree with me?
> 
> FYI - I have now updated my author's [profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottea_x/profile) to include various links to my social media and Spotify. Feel free to follow or view if you wish.  
> 


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